


Young Blood

by mydnyghtamethyst



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: 80's Music, 90's Music, Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Drama, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Big sexy, Bullying, Consensual Underage Sex, Cutting, Daddy Issues, Drama, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Drama, Family Issues, Forbidden Love, French Kissing, Gentle Kissing, High School, Kev is a Mother Hen, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, May/December Relationship, Musical References, NWO, Older Man/Younger Woman, Past Infidelity, Pop Culture, Romance, Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, Teen Angst, Teen Crush, Teen Romance, The Bad Guy, Underage Kissing, WWE - Freeform, Wrestling, Young Blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 40,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29731947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydnyghtamethyst/pseuds/mydnyghtamethyst
Summary: Upon returning to WWE in 2002, Kevin Nash and Scott Hall are introduced to the young daughters of their friend, Mark Calaway.Reves and Heather Calaway are a pair of sisters who are as fiercely loyal to each other as they are passionate about their musical ambitions.At first, the sisters are an eyesore as it seems they are always around, no matter where The Outsiders go.  Then as Scott becomes entangled in a physical relationship with Reves, the eldest daughter, Kevin works hard to keep his buddy out of hot water. But, when Big Sexy is disturbed to find himself becoming haplessly attracted to, Heather, the baby of the family,  he knows it can only spell tragedy for everyone involved.In this tale, where everyone seems to be harboring a secret, the bonds of family and friendship are tested and the meaning of true love raises more questions than answers.
Relationships: Kevin Nash/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Sara Calaway/The Undertaker, Scott Hall/ Original Female Character
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an age gap story between older men and younger women. No heat on me, please. Don't like, don't read and all that jazz.
> 
> Topics herein contain, but are not limited to the following:
> 
> • May/December romances (as in older male, younger female)  
> • Depiction/discussion of suicide/self-harm  
> • Bullying  
> • Drug use/reference  
> • Sexual situations  
> • Physical violence  
> • Adultery  
> • Cursing

> "I will tell you what she was like. She was like a piano in a country where everyone has had their handscut off." – Angela Carter, _Black Venus_

__________

"Okay, let's do it again, and this time, don't screw it up!" 

"Yeah, cause I totally did that on purpose," the girl snipped at her older sister.

"Whatever," the older girl snorted, "Just find your spot."

The younger girl's fingers plodded over the keys of the electric keyboard searching for the right note. "Okay," she said, adjusting herself on the edge of the bathtub where she sat.

"Three, two, one," the older girl counted down as she hit the button on the analog recording device. Smiling big, she watched and listened as her sister's nimble fingers pushed out the awesome drum loop on the synthetic instrument. When she was in her element, her sister was so graceful. Usually.

All of a sudden there was a horrific pounding on the door. The girl at the keyboard gave a start, tumbling backward into the tub. The other huffed and switched off the recorder with a look of contempt clouding her face.

"What the hell? Open the door," a voice boomed from the other side.

The older girl got up, unlocked the door, and sat back down on the closed toilet seat.

The door inched open but was halted by the object stuffed underneath it. The tall, burly figure was trying to force his way inside when he looked down to the floor. "Aww, hell," his deep, Texan accent said as he yanked a hotel towel out from under the crack of the door.

He made his way fully into the bathroom, looking at the two faces staring back at him. One was glaring at him, already out of patience, a trait she no doubt inherited straight from him. The other, though mildly annoyed, looked meekly up at him with wide eyes.

"What the fuck are ya doin' now?" he inquired in a stern voice.

"We _were_ recording a song," the older girl crossed her arms in agitation.

Mark Calaway sighed heavily as he rubbed his eyes, dragging his hands down over his face. Why, oh why, did he let his wife talk him into this? Teenagers were hard under normal circumstances. This? This was a nightmare sometimes.

Mark was one of the top guys in World Wrestling Entertainment, the most dominant wrestling corporation in the world. Despite the fact that his character, The Undertaker, was one of the most fearsome entities to ever step foot inside the squared circle, he was convinced the teen years were a curse, straight from Lucifer, with the sole intent of torturing parents.

He loved his girls, more than anything, but truth be told, he prayed daily they would tire of traveling and tell him that they wanted to go home. As evident so far, he had no luck.

The two girls peered up at their father. He certainly was fear-inducing at six foot, ten inches tall. He was built like a brick wall, covered in tattoos, and always wore a somber expression on his face.

"So, what's up, Dad?" the elder sister asked, hoping he'd be brief.

"I'm going to lunch with a couple of old buddies who've rejoined the company. Was wondering if you wanted to come with me, or if you wanted to stay here and I'll order some delivery for you," he said.

Both girls' faces fell.

"Can't we see a movie?" the younger girl finally spoke up.

"No. I have to head to the arena afterward, so there's no time. Besides, downtown can be a dangerous place and you're not going out by yourselves."

"Doesn't matter any other time," the older girl grumbled, low.

Mark's head snapped towards her. "You wanna run that by me again, missy?"

She shook her head, her continence neither fearful nor challenging.

"You can watch something on HBO. But we're going to that sushi restaurant we ate at the last time we were here. You liked that, didn't you?"

The sisters looked at each other, mulling it over. Sometimes, their dad's friends could be real jerks, or just plain weird, always regaling who had gotten the most plastered during the last run or who could get the most " _pussy_ ".

Still, they were tired of being trapped in these hotels all the time. Sure, they got to hang out at the arenas, but so many times, they would get dropped off after the show, so their dad could go out with his friends.

Why were they even there, the older girl wondered? Oh yes, he was relieving his guilt. Good job.

The younger sister looked at her with that "sympathy for the devil" expression and shrugged her shoulders. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Ok, let's go."

"Alright. We'll be leaving in about ten minutes," Mark warned them and left.

"Perfectly ruined. Again," the older sister griped, padding her hands against the keys in a disorderly fashion.

"We'll try again later. You loved that sushi, remember?" the younger girl cooed, running a brush through her hair.

"Yeah, yeah," she replied dismissively as she approached the mirror to touch up her makeup.

As they approached the restaurant, Mark told the girls, "Heather, it's okay to talk. And Rev, you can be yourself, but with less of an attitude."

"Where's the fun in that?" the older girl asked.

Mark simply gave her the _look_ and they continued on.

They entered the restaurant and were greeted by the hostess. Mark informed her they were meeting friends and she lead them towards the booth where the other men were seated.

As they walked, Heather, the younger daughter, felt her anxiety rising. She didn't like meeting new people and found herself wishing they had stayed in the room.

The hostess gestured them to the booth letting them know a server would be with them promptly.

"Hey yo," a man with a rugged-looking five o'clock shadow and long, dark hair pulled back into a braid greeted them with a small wave. His dark hair matched his deep brown eyes.

Another larger man, about Mark's height and build, also had a long mane, except blonde. He sported a goatee similar to Mark's as well. He lifted his head and smiled. "What's up, brother?"

"Not much, man. Bustin' my ass, as always," Mark replied with a laugh. "Oh, uh these are my girls. That's Reves and this is Heather." He gestured to each of them in turn. "Girls, this is-"

"Scott Hall and Kevin Nash," Reves interjected in an unimpressed tone with her arms folded across her chest, impatiently.

Mark's eyes flashed in anger. He was about fed up with the girl's attitude. If not for Scott and Kev sitting there, he probably would have let loose on the girl. How long was she going to punish him? "Just sit down," he told her, swallowing his rage.

As this occurred, Hall and Nash took the girls in. It was evident by Reves's sour visage that this was not her idea of fun. As soon as they approached, her aura was that of contempt. They could tell she was the rebel. At least, that's what she was in her mind, complete with leather jacket and all.

She stood about five foot six inches tall, with waist-length, ash blonde hair that bordered on a platinum tone. Her ocean-colored eyed were like two icy pools staring back at them. She had a pert nose and her full lips were pursed as if she were giving her best Stephanie McMahon impersonation. Her eyes were encircled with more eyeliner than should be legal for anyone person the wear. Her skin was pale and smooth. She was beautiful – if she would wipe off that sour puss look and some of that eye make-up, Scott had thought.

The younger sister, Heather, was equally as beautiful but almost the polar opposite. Aside from a few shared features, it was hard to believe they were related, let alone, related to Mark. Heather was a petite five foot one inch with a tiny frame. Like her sister, her hair cascaded in long tendrils down her back. However, instead of ash blonde, Heather's hair was a deep ebony that she had accented with purple streaks. 

  
Her head had been bowed as they approached and when she raised it to look at them, Kevin was taken back a bit by the striking emerald eyes that glanced at them from behind a pair of black-framed glasses. They were Mark's eyes, unmistakably. Yet, unlike the stern seriousness that Mark exuded, there was an unnamed sadness peering out at them that was completed by her full lips in a frown. Her complexion was even fairer than that of her sister's. An identical nose to her sister's sat in the middle of her round face.

Somehow, she reminded Kevin a little of Snow White in her appearance and meekness. He laughed at himself internally. He was pretty sure she wouldn't be boarding with seven other men anytime soon, not as long as the _Deadman_ was walking around above ground.

When Mark instructed them to sit, Heather obediently scrambled in first. She sat, pretending to be fascinated by the scenes of paper temples and tree cutouts housed between two plates of glass.

With a huff, Reves slide in next, and Mark was on the end.

Just then, the server came up to take their order.

"I'll have some hot tea. And I'd like some Miso soup too," Reves said without hesitation.

"Same. Please," Heather mumbled.   
Everyone placed their orders and the server left to put them in.

"So, you lazy fucks finally decided to come back to work, eh?" Mark joked.

Kevin snorted, "You mean to tell me if you were paid a year's salary to sit on your ass, you wouldn't fuckin' do it?"

Hell no, he wouldn't, Reves thought.

"Damn, it'd be nice to have more time for my other projects, but I think, I'd go outta my mind being at home all the time," Mark answered while scratching his chin.

See? Reves asked mentally.

"I don't know, man. A lot of people got fucked by giving up their paydays," Scott said. "Look at Page."

Heather and Reves were aware he was speaking of Diamond Dallas Page, also known as DDP for short. He was a part of the whole stalker angle from last year during the Invasion which involved their mother, Sara. Dallas was not a bad guy by any means, but the entire ordeal had left a bad taste in everyone's mouth and his career was never truly able to recover.

"Guess I can't blame you there," Mark shrugged. "But you guys are Vince's boys. I don't think he's gonna do that shit to you."

"No, not after he gets in a good ass pounding, without the courteous of spit." Nash joked.

Heather's eyes bulged upon hearing that and dawned a crimson mask. She turned towards the wall once more.

Reves suppressed a snicker.

"Dude!" Mark narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the left.

"Shit." Kevin cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"So, is it true you guys killed WCW?" Reves asked elbow propped on the table, chin resting in her palm. "Not so much you," she said to Scott. "But dirt sheets are pretty harsh on you." She directed her statement to Kevin.

Kevin glared at her. Cute. Another fucking mark tagging along with Daddy.

Scott on the other hand grinned back at her. "Now what do you know about this business, little lady?"

"Only what I hear," she replied with a wry smile. "And see." She nodded her head in his direction. 

"Hush, girl. You don't know nothin," Mark chided her.

At that, the raven-haired girl stole a glance at her father. A slight grin crept across her face.

The older girl looked at her and recognized her intentions. She stifled her laughter. "Don't," she warned her.

"Don't what?" Mark inquired suspiciously.

Reves glanced at her sister, then turned to her dad. "She was just going to correct you on your use of a double negative," Reves stated matter of fact.

Not looking at her father, Heather pushed her glasses up on her face. A reflex of silent conformation.

Mark rolled his eyes and leaned forward to speak to his youngest child. "Girl, when I need a college degree to be a pro wrestler, I'll take that into consideration."

Remembering the others were there, Heather shrunk back inside herself.

Their food was delivered and as they ate Scott asked, "Yo, how did these two beautiful girls come from your ugly ass?"

Mark laughed, "Fuck you, man." A moment later he became austere. "Those are my daughters, by the way. I'd watch your mouth." He gave Hall a stone-cold glare.

Heather glanced up. So that was the way it was going to go? Another couple of creeps to contend with? She opened the small plaid backpack sitting on her lap. She slipped on her headphones and switched on her portable CD player. Next, she pulled out a copy of The Great Gatsby from her bag.

Kevin watched her, a little surprised. Most girls her age only read fashion magazines. Then again, she didn't strike him as the type to concern herself with the latest runway trends.

"So, what are you listening to?" She heard him ask after a few minutes. She had felt his eyes on her, but she fought the overwhelming urge to crawl under the table. Instead, she paused her music, pulled her headphones off, and let them rest around her neck. Her eyes darted around quickly as if wistfully thinking there was someone else he could be talking to. She always found it agonizing when her dad's friends - or anyone from the business for that matter – engaged her in conversation.

"Veruca Salt," she finally answered after a painful minute. "Currently. But this a mixed compilation I made. And this," she said holding up the front of the book, "is The Great Gatsby." Her face immediately turned crimson. Well, that was idiotic of you. I'm fairly certain he can read, she told herself.

"That's all that one does is read books," Mark commented, bringing a spicy tuna roll to his mouth.

Heather's blush became even brighter as she pushed her glasses up on her nose again.

"And what do you do?" Scott directed towards Reves.

"Everything in her power to put me in an early grave," Mark quipped.

Reves shifted her eyes. "Says the Deadman."

Mark raised an eyebrow at her and she gave him a cheeky grin.

"So, how is Sara? Are they planning to use her anymore on TV?" Scott inquired.

"She's good, but they aren't planning to use her for anything else right now. They got me in this 'Big Evil' gimmick at the moment, so we'll see, I guess."   
"What about the boys?" Scott questioned.

"They've been looking after the bike shop for a while now. They both love bikes and classic cars. Bought 'em a '67 Mustang as a project they're working on right now," Mark told them.

"That's fucking sweet," Kevin said, nodding.

"Bet they'll be pimpin' in that," Scott laughed.

Heather and Reves exchanged glances at one another. Why did everyone seem to know Marcus and Steven, a set of twins who were the spitting image of their father? It seemed obvious to the sisters that they were treated as of they didn't exist before coming on the road. They were sure of the reasoning behind it, though the sisters had differing opinions. Still, Marcus and Steven got to go on the road a lot more when they were younger. For all they knew, it was chalked up to the notion that boys got more excited about the fact that their dad beat people up for a living.

"I didn't remember you even had daughters," Kevin admitted.

Well, of course, you didn't! Reves sneered inside her head as she folded her arms over her chest and fell back against the bench.

Heather sat quietly, grateful to have been past recollection.

"It's been a long time, man. Running on different circuits doesn't give a lot of time to catch up," Kevin said.

"I suppose we'll be seeing a lot more of each other if you fucks stick around, that is," teased Mark.

"Oh, we will. WWE is the place to be," Scott beamed.

"I don't think we have anywhere else to go," Kevin turned to him with a smile.

They finished their meal. Then it was time to head to the arena to be briefed on the show's events. 

> 


	2. Chapter 2.

"Is it really necessary to drag all this crap along?" Mark asked with a shake of his head. The girls looked at him and he wondered why he bothered asking.

He watched his youngest lugging the keyboard that rivaled her tiny stature. He sighed and took it from her, balancing it against his body with his left arm, while he carried his duffle bag which contained his ring gear on his right shoulder.

They made it to Mark's locker room to get settled in. Luckily, their father being one of the top performers - and not to mention one of Vinnie Mac's boys – afforded him one of the few private dressing rooms. Both girls resolved that hanging out in the same room as a bunch of testosterone-filled dudes would have reached its fill quickly.

"I've got to talk to Vince. Then I have a few things to check on." He looked at them sternly, "Try not to get yourselves in trouble."

Heather nodded obediently while Reves scoffed.

"I mean it," his voice became a little gruff. He exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Reves waited a couple of minutes. She went to the door, opening it and checking both directions.

"You aren't thinking of making mischief, are you?" Heather questioned with apprehension.

"Always," Reves grinned wolfishly. "Unfortunately, not this time," she added, "Remember that janitor's closet in corridor B we found that one time? I think it would be great for soundproof recording."

" I think Dad wants us to stay here," Heather replied in a low voice.

Reves's blue orbs flashed in annoyance, "We aren't hurting anyone. We're just recording our music. Don't be such a goody-two-shoes."

Heather huffed and rolled her eyes at the jab as she got up from the couch. She didn't know why such an elementary jest vexed her so.

The teenagers carted their equipment to the next corridor, locating the janitorial closet Reves had mentioned. It was cramped and filled with all sorts of cleaning products and tools, but it rendered enough room to work.

They sat up the keyboard stand with the keyboard on it and the recorder.

" No distractions. Let's pound this out," Reves commanded.

"Easy for you to say," Heather bit back as she double-checked the setting on the keyboard.

"Look, I can't be bothered to learn all these instruments. It's not _my_ fault you know both piano and guitar."

"Tell me about it," Heather mumbled, straightening her position on the creates of floor cleaner which she sat upon. She placed he fingers over the keys. "Well, I'm ready," she told her sister, and she cued the recorder. Heather's slender fingers danced in the same rhythm that she played earlier in the hotel bathroom.

Reves watched the look on her sister's face, fondly. She knew the younger girl enjoyed playing her instruments as much as she also enjoyed singing, or even reading. Reves remembered some years ago, begging for music and singing lessons. Begging as it was, was a loose term, really. The four if them (her and her three siblings) need merely ask and it was done – within reason, of course. She was well aware that this was ninety percent the results of guilt on her father's part, yet they profited from it, never the less.

* * *

Hall and Nash had arrived at the arena an hour late and had the pleasure of being greeted by sideways glares and murmurs from a fair majority of the locker room and other staff.

"Looks like we're still a couple of the most popular boys back here," Kevin said with a smirk, running his hand through his blonde hair.

" You know it, Chico," Scott returned.

They were well aware that people hated the fact that they were returning to WWE, especially entrenched in their infamous New World Order gimmick. Their alliance with the immortal Hulk Hogan, everyone's one beloved hero, ignited the spark that would come to be known as the "Monday Night Wars", a phenomenon that turned the wrestling world on its head and forever changed the business.

It may sound like a hard burden to have to bear, but if anyone could carry it, it was these men. And they did so proudly, not giving a second thought to what anyone thought of them. At the moment, they were on their way to meet up with Hogan, then on to Vince's office. The nWo was making its WWE debut tonight at the No Way Out pay per view.

* * *

Heather finished up with a triumphant smile on her face. This was the last layer they needed to complete their demo song, " _Shadow of a Promise_ ".

They switched off the machines and stood. "Let's go get a CD and we can start mixing this," Reves said eagerly.

Heather, who had the closest proximity to the door, reached for the handle. She gave it a turn, but it seemed stuck. She made another attempt but to no avail. "Rev, I don't think I can get the door open."

Reves approached the door. "Move," she commanded, slightly shoving the younger girl out of her way. She jiggled the handle, but it wouldn't budge. "What the hell?" she questioned with exasperation. She pushed and shunted against the door with her shoulder. Her frustration raised. She pressed her back against the door, digging the soles of her black boot against the concrete.

All of a sudden, the door swung open and the girls found themselves falling away. Reves landed square on her back outside in the hallway. Heather, whose hand had been resting on the door, came crashing down over her sister's body with a heavy thud. A painful groan escaped Reves's lips.

"Whoa!" they heard a deep voice exclaim.

"What the hell?" Another questioned.

Still lying over her sister, Heather looked immediately to get right. Noticing two pairs of shoes she followed her gaze all the way up to their perplexed expressions. Her face flushed a deep crimson and she gave a small gasp. Standing over them, fixed in bewilderment, were Kevin Nash and Scott Hall. Heather was frozen in mortification as they stared down at the two girls.

"Heather! Get the hell off me," her sister's shrill voice called out to her from a distant land as she was being pushed away.

Reves picked herself up off the cold floor, brushing off. Meanwhile, Heather sat back on her heels. Her eyes averted to the ground. Reves gazed down at her sister with agitation. "Heather, get up!" she barked as she rubbed a sore spot on her back.

Hopping to compliance, she rose, her mantle deepening.

There was an awkward silence, then after a moment Kevin asked, "Just out of curiosity, do you always lock yourselves in broom closets?"

Reves huffed. "We didn't lock ourselves in, okay?"

"Yo, calm down, Chica," Scott told her, "I don't know what else it means to be stuck inside the closet, but if you say so…"

"Why the hell were you in there, though?" Kevin questioned.

Reves' visage became a rare bright blush. "Well, if you must know, we were recording a song," she said, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

" Recording a song?" The two men looked at one another, skeptically. They were not sure if they should laugh or be intrigued.

Heather witnessed the exchange and cringed. They probably thought that the sisters were delusional or had the intellect of a rock.

"Yes," Reves snipped. She too was battling embarrassment. Neither sister liked to speak about their work until it was fully finished. "What does it matter? God, all of you are so nosy! _Look at those little teenagers over there. What in the blue hell are they doing now?"_ She spouted in a mocking voice.

Heather's heart stopped and she had a sharp intake of breath. Some of the wrestlers would tell Mark if the girls got out of line. Some would look for excuses to keep them away from the arenas. Every time Reves would get cocky with John Layfield, he would run and tell their once threatened to throw her over his knee and beat her, himself (not that it phased Reves whatsoever). When they went to the next town they would be restricted from going to the arena and made to stay in the hotel room nearly the entire time.

"Rev!" Heather exclaimed, tugging on her sister's shirt sleeve. "Don't be so derisive. They're going to tell Dad on us!"

Heather could feel the blonde goliath's hazel eyes fixed on her, but it was the smaller man who spoke, "Nah, Chica. See we ain't really the tattle tailin' types."

"Unless of course, it suits sour benefit," Kevin chimed in with a smirk.

Heather glanced up with a worrying expression in her doe eyes. Meanwhile, Reves fought the grin that was creeping across her cheeks. Maybe these guys weren't half bad?

" Anyway, Kev we gotta go. Old Vinnie ain't gonna be too pleased with us," Scott reminded him.

"Yeah," Kevin answered him. "Best advice is, stay out of the closet." He gave the girls a jesting glance as he began to walk away.

The two men looked at each other, shaking their heads. Last they checked, not many hits were made in the closet, but they could see how the boredom could set in. Life on the road was difficult for grown men. It was not one for teens, especially a pretty pair such as them. Nevertheless, that was Mark's decision.

"Well, that wasn't at all mortifying," Heather groused when they were gone.

Reves turned towards her as if being broken from a train of thought. "It wasn't that bad," she argued, willing the heat in her cheeks to leave. "C'mon. Let's get the CD." She linked her sister's arm with hers.

On their way back to their dad's locker room they came across some of their favorite people in the WWE, Amy Dumas -better known as Lita- and Matt and Jeff, the Hardy Boyz. The trio was younger and had a lot more in common with the sisters than a lot of the old wrestlers.

"Oh, hey girls. What's up?" Matt greeted them.

"Oh. Hi." Reves perked up some, waving towards them.

"Hey," Heather smiled, sweet and shy.

" Uh oh. Rev, who pissed you off?" Jeff asked in that distinctive Carolina accent. Although her face had brightened, she still carried an aura of annoyance.

"She's upset because we got ourselves trapped in the janitor's closet," Heather volunteered.

Reves was staring daggers at Heather who shrunk back.

Amy laughed at them playfully. "So, do you have any new stuff?"

" It's not ready yet," Reves replied teasingly.

The sisters had always admired the threesome known as Team Extreme. They pushed the envelope with every match and possessed great heart and tenacity. They followed their dreams fearlessly. They were like square pegs in a round hole. They just had something different. The sister felt they were different too.

"Well, promise us, you'll give us first listen." Amy nudged Reves.

"Of course," Heather smiled.

They parted ways from the trio. They had a lot of free time for the rest of the afternoon until the end of the show. Their dad may pop in to check on them periodically, but they knew, for the most part, he had disappeared for the rest of the night.


	3. Chapter 3.

The next day and that evening's Raw has passed rather uneventful for the girls.

Mark was given a couple of days off afterward. Once Mark had finished his segments, they caught a red-eye from Chicago back home to Houston. It seemed Sara was already asleep, so they dragged their luggage upstairs to get some rest.

The girls happily snuggled into their familiar beds. As fun as it was traveling and getting to see the world, neither of them could deny the softness of their pillows or the feel of their favorite comforter wrapped around them.

Mark felt the same way but to a greater extent. Life on the road was by no means easy. He made a great deal of sacrifices to do what he did. His body suffered, his kids suffered and sometimes, his marriage even suffered. He thought about this as he changed into a pair of gym shorts to go to sleep.

He looked at his sleeping wife, Sara, her blonde hair framed out around her. He couldn't blame her for not being in a good mood a lot of the time. They sometimes argued a lot more than he would like, but the burden of raising four kids practically on her own got to her a lot. Still, that is why Mark did what he did, so money would never be an issue again and they could focus on the kids.

As he crawled into bed, he kissed his wife. She turned towards him, nuzzling close. "I'm glad you're home," she mumbled groggily.

The Raw after-party was in full swing. Though it was more like Bingo night at the senior center compared to the old WWF days or their time in WCW. Hogan, Hall, and Nash had hit a local bar and were greeted by some of their colleagues.

Where was everyone's party? Damn, they need Kid and Shawn. They remembered when Mark would bring out tray after tray of Jack. Nash smiled, despite the fact that just thinking of the smell made him want to puke.

"Hey fellas," they were greeted by Steve Williams, known to the wrestling world as Stone Cold Steve Austin. Over the next coming weeks, they were going to be working with Steve a lot. As the nWo poison, they were setting their sights to take down the biggest stars in WWE. They had already " taken care of" The Rock earlier in the night.

In real life though, Steve was one of Nash's closest friends and they were happy to catch up. The group of men spent the next few hours shooting the shit and drinking until they couldn't see straight.

"Mom, you're being so unreasonable," Reves moaned.

Sara put down the large knife she was using to chop lettuce for the salad that would go with dinner. "Don't you think you spend enough time away from home?" she asked with a sigh.

"But Dad never lets us do anything!"

Sara looked at her daughter, shaking her head. She wanted to go out to a movie. Was it so much to ask for a little family time? Even with four kids and a husband, Sara often felt lonely. Her husband was always on the road, but now that her daughters had been traveling with him for the last month or so the house got emptier, quieter. She even sometimes missed the squabbling of the boys versus the girls. Her son's spent much of their time at the shop, or with their girlfriends. She knew they were probably baring a grudge that the girls were the ones that got to go on the road, see the sights, and hang out with the wrestlers. Mark had charged them with looking after the shop while he was gone. He even bought them a '67 Mustang as a fixer-up project they worked on when he was home. That is where the three of them were now.

"You know," Sara said, exhaling sharply, " why don't you go ride those horses your dad has spent so much money on? I think he should get rid of them, really. You two never ride them. And as it is, you don't take any responsibility to them while you are here."

Heather, who had been quiet as a church mouse the whole time, steadily shifted her eyes to her mother as she stood helping to dice tomatoes.

"I've had to start paying the Bedson boy to help with some of the chores around the ranch since everyone seems to want to disappear on me," Sara added.

Reves rolled her eyes. "So what, you want us to go ride the freakin' horses?"

"I didn't tell you I wanted you to do anything," Sara replied, not looking at her.

Reves scoffed hopping off the bar stool which she was sitting upon. " C'mon, Heather," she said, grabbing at her sister's hand.

Heather put down the knife and wiped her hands on a towel. " You sure you Don't need help?" she offered.

Her mother shook her head. " No. Go on." She took the cutting board from her daughter and added the tomatoes to the bowl with the rest of the salad ingredients.

She put the bowl in the refrigerator and sighed. She was worried about the kids. It had been a rough few months, especially for the girls. Still, the boys didn't have it any easier. They felt neglected, she knew that for a fact.

The girls changed into a pair of old jeans, a tank top, and riding boots that had been sitting in their closets, collecting dust. They pulled their long tendrils into a high ponytail and headed down to the stables.

The stables housed the girl's stallions and a few other animals. Heather owned a chestnut Andalusian, while Reves's was a gray. The girls were quite young when they begged Daddy for a pony. What little girl didn't want one? To their present chagrin, the animals were named after Disney equestrians as the sister were avid fans. Phillippe belonged to Heather as Pegasus was Reves's.

As Reves approached the pen, Pegasus snorted and reared back, kicking.

" Calm down, you beast," Reves said gruffly.

" Ahhh. It's alright. Shhh," Heather coaxed the horse softly patting its body and petting its nose. "Don't mind Rev. She's just being a Grimy Gus. I think he's mad at you," she said, turning towards her sister.

"Well, he can get glad on the same horseshoes he got mad on," Reves stated, grabbing a bridal.

Reves saddled up Pegasus rather quickly and mounted the stallion.

Off in the distance, they could hear a low rumbling as it came closer. Reves squinted her eyes to make out the approaching figure. A grin started to tug at her lips. "Swoon, here comes your boyfriend," she said imitating Tie Frasier from the Clueless film.

Heather turned to see an ATV making its way closer to the stables. She sighed in heavy exasperation, "Heck." With much strain, she grabbed the saddle for Phillippe. Her sister watched her from atop the horse's back, smirking slightly. "Rev, are you just going to leave me here? Come on, help me!" Heather pleaded with her sister in desperation as she struggled to lift the saddle onto the animal's back.

Reves batted her eyelashes with a _devil may care_ expression. "What are sisters for?" she mused, shrugging her shoulders. Then she snapped the reigns and Pegasus flew out of the stables as if he truly had wings.

" Well thanks," Heather said between gritted teeth as she tried to force the saddle upwards with a grunt.

She could hear the rumbling of the four-wheeler moving closer still. The noise was buzzing in her skull.

Her arms gave way and she lost her grip on the saddle. It slid down the horse's torso and landed with a heavy thud across her toes. She let out a groan of pain, dropping her head against Phillippe's body.

She hadn't noticed that the rumbling had stopped until she heard the boy speak in his thick Texan accent, "Howdy, Heather."

" Hello, Brandon," she muttered, head still bent

Without another word, he picked the saddle up from her feet and began to fasten it to Phillippe.

Brandon Bedson was a seventeen-year-old of a muscular build and a deep tan from working on both the Calaway and his family's ranch. He was also captain of the football team at school. He stood at five foot eleven inches with deep blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. As in popular guy fashion, he quite good looking.

Brandon stood on the other side of Phillippe, bucking the strap under the horse's belly. He tested to make sure it was secure. When he was finished, he paused, staring into her.

Heather met his gaze only briefly, quickly averting her head towards the ground. She cleared her throat. "Uh, thanks," she mumbled.

" No problem," his voice had that twang to it. He came around Phillippe, stopping right beside her

She let him assist her in mounting the equestrian and set off.

"So how's it been going?" Brandon asked as they crossed the field on the back of the property.

"It's okay," she replied.

" You thinking of coming back to school soon?"

"Oh, I don't think so. Nor right now." Her heartbeat quickened and her stomach clenched into a knot. She did not want to think about what had happened at school.

"Well, the Sadie Hawkins dance is coming up next month in March. Seven girls have already asked me out, but I turned 'em all down. Hoping maybe, even if you don't come back to school, you'd go with me."

Please. Stop. Just stop. Her brain screamed at him. Yes, she could just envision it. She, the freak, the date of Mr. Wonderful mingling with all the jocks, cheerleaders, and _popular_ kids. Listening to their superficial and transparent conversations over who has going to nail who, what girl is too fat for her dress, how hideous that one's makeup looks. All this, while trying to mimic their narcissistic behavior. She wagered she would likely end up drenched in pig's blood like Carrie by the night's conclusion.

Philippe trotted along at an even pace, though he seemed rather disturbed by the quad rolling along beside him. He jerked and whinnied.

The feeling is mutual, boy, Heather thought to herself. She wished she could gallop away on the stead, leaving Prince Charming alone with his unrequited affections.

"When is this taking place?" she finally questioned. No way in Hell was she even remotely considering going to some teenage pre-mating ritual with him. She merely didn't want to appear rude.

"March 16th. That's Saturday," he replied.

She frowned "Oh yeah. That's Wrestlemania weekend." She feigned disappointment to mask the relief from registering on her continence.

Brandon's face fell. "Guess you can't blame a guy for trying."

Heather smiled apprehensively. "Yeah." She hated that she felt guilty even though she held zero desire to go with him.

Off in the distance, she heard her mother calling to her from the back patio. "Girls, dinner's almost ready. Come on in," she called, waving her hand over her head.

As they began heading back, Heather uttered a silent prayer of thanks.

When they reached the stables, Brandon hopped from the quad and right Phillippe's reigns to the post and lifted his arms to help Heather down.

Heather swung her right leg over as the other slipped from the stirrup. With a gasp, she felt herself sliding towards the ground.

As if predicting her mishap, Brandon was there to catch her. She fell into his arms, bracing herself against his broad shoulders. She could feel his muscular arms clenched around her. She was at eye level with him and couldn't avoid locking eyes with him for a few agonizing moments.

Brandon eased her the rest of the way down. "You okay?"

Her face burning, she immediately averted her eyes. "Yeah. Thanks." After a moment of silence, she told him, " Better get back," as she hurried from the stables.

For a moment, Brandon watched her go. Damn, she has a great ass, he thought to himself. Her taunt body pressed against him was about all he could take. It was so damn frustrating that the one girl he wanted more than anyone else wouldn't give him the time of day while all these other bitches were falling all over themselves just to get a glance in their direction. There had to be some way to wear her down. For now, he will away the erection that had sprung up in his jeans and followed after her.

Heather made her way to the deck with Brandon in tow. Without being instructed, she entered the kitchen to pull out the salad and rolls for dinner.

" Hey, Brandon. How's it going?" Sara smiled at him.

"Can't complain, Mrs. Calaway, thanks. And yourself?" Brandon replied respectfully.

"Pretty good. Your parents still at that conference in Phoenix?"

"Yes, ma'am. Should be home on Thursday."

Sara nodded. "You wanna stay for dinner?" she asked.

"Well. Uh," he eyed the cuts of meat she was removing from the grill. "That ribeye, ma'am?" he asked sheepishly.

"Yep. It is."

"You're too kind, ma'am."

"You're welcome. And Brandon," she paused, narrowing her eyes at him, "You can call me Sara. I'm not _that_ old."

"Right. Sorry, Miss Sara," he replied unsurely.

"Good enough," she sighed shaking her head.

Midway through Reves had approached catching the tail end of the conversation.

When Heather returned the first thing her eyes fell upon was her sister's face, twisted in disdain.

Brandon reached forward to take the bowls from Heather. Releasing them, she looked past him, to her sister in bewilderment.

Reves pointed at Brandon then gestures to the dining table with a sneer on her face.

Heather's face fell. He was probably one of the last people she had wanted to see hate her family's dinner table, now he was going to sit down and break bread with them? What was this, the Divine Comedy? She questioned as she slumped down into her seat.

Just then, Mark and the twins had come up. They had been at the shop, working on the Mustang.

"Ugh, I'm starving!" Steven exclaimed, grabbing a roll with a still greasy hand.

"Ew! Go was your hands, you filthy pig!" Reves barked in disgust.

"Well, if I'm a pig, then you're the cow in the pen next to me," Steven shot back, a piece of masticated bread flying from his mouth.

Mark gently popped him in the back of the head. "Quit actin' like a damn animal," he commanded. "And don't talk to your sister like that in front of company.

"Hey," Steven said, rubbing the back of his head as his other half laughed at him.

Mark ignored them and turned to his oldest daughter. "You watch your mouth too, young lady.

"Everyone, go and wash your hands," Sara announced. "Come on, guys. This isn't kindergarten."

Heather pushed the food around on her plate, half-heartedly listening to the conversation Brandon was having with her parents and brothers. Her brothers were also on the football team at school, though they were not particularly close to Brandon. She crinkled her nose at the bloody juice that seeped from the meat flank as she cut into it with her knife. She wasn't one for a large quantity of red meat. She was, by no means, a vegetarian, but was it a crime to not have it still mooing? She didn't speak on it, however. She didn't want her parents to have the inclination that she was ungrateful.

Brandon was sitting beside her on the left. His proximity was too close for comfort, but she did her best to neglect his presence, a task which proved to be rather difficult as he continued turning towards her, eyes trained on her face.

Reves's fork hit the plate with a clang and she stood abruptly. "May I be excused?" she asked impatiently.

"Me too," Heather followed as she began to slowly rise.

"He'll no," Mark growled. "This is family. You don't always need to be running off."

Heather shot back into the chair with a frown. She bent her head, staring at the plate as she felt Brandon studying her again.

Reves made an obviously disgruntled display of falling back into her chair. Her ocean-blue eyes reflected her fowl disposition.

Reves cut her eyes towards Brandon. She couldn't sit here and listen to this lying cad anymore.

"So, Heather, I hope maybe you will reconsider what we talked about earlier," Brandon said to the raven-haired girl. He returned the glare at Reves, then directed himself back to Heather.

Heather gazed upwards, her eyes moving around the table. She was wringing her hands in her lap. What gall to bring this up in front of her parents? Her face became as deep crimson and she cursed herself for the lack of control over her visage.

"And just what type of conversation did you have?" Mark's voice was even, but his eyes narrowed.

Brandon glanced at him humbly. "Well sir, the Sadie Hawkins dance is coming up in March. I thought maybe she would like to go with me." He swallowed nervously.

"Isn't that the one where the girl asks out the guy?" Sara questioned before taking a sip of her drink.

"Yes," Reves interjected. "And wow. Stupid. Why ask her if the role is reversed? If she wanted to go with you, she would have said so," Reves stated bluntly.

"Reves Ann Calaway!" Sara scolded.

"Just saying…"

"That's Wrestlemania weekend," Heather finally spoke up, giving a furtive glance at Brandon and both her parents in turn. "I, I was looking forward to the show," she mumbled and her voice was plodding to her parents.

"I'm sorry, Brandon. She had been looking forward to this," Sara offered apologetically.

Mark looked relieved. The Bedson boy was alright. He was hard working and respectful, but Mark didn't like the idea of anyone trying to make a move on his little girl. He knew it was bound to happen as beautiful as she was, but he prayed it would be later instead of sooner. Still, he trusted that she was smart enough not to get tangled up in some big mess.

Brandon's eyes flashed. He didn't like being humiliated in front of her parents. He wanted to ask her to a movie, but he knew she would reject that too. To add insult to injury, her old man was a hardass. That kept her on a tight leash.

Brandon cleared his throat. "Well, it was awfully nice if ya to offer me dinner. Allow me to help clean up a bit," he said standing with his plate in hand and took Heather's plate as well.

"You don't have to do that, Brandon," Sara said.

"Y'all fed me. With all due respect, yeah, I do ma'am- I mean Miss Sara.

Sara nodded. "That's kind of you."

Reves rose from the table and started to walk off.

"Excuse me," Mark's bass voice rang out.

Reves stopped and turned, "Yes?" She forced the syrupy, sweet tone to her voice.

"Did you eat food at this table?"

The blonde teenager merely stared at him.

"I believe I asked you a question. Did you eat food at this table?" His voice was gruff.

She nodded in response.

"Then you better get the hell over here and help clean up this mess," he demanded. His emerald eyes flashed at her.

She gave a seething glance at Brandon, then her sister, who was already obediently gathering dishes and silverware.

Heather rushed into the kitchen and Brandon followed suit. She placed the dishes in the sink and turned around to find herself cornered. A cold shiver ran down her spine.

She was rescued by the appearance of her sister. "You going to wash the dishes too? Maybe take a show? Stay the night?" Reves sneered.

Before he could respond, the rest of the clan was I tow. "Well, Mr. and Mrs. Calaway, I best be heading out. Thanks again for dinner. Best steak I had in a long time. My old man makes it too dry." he said with a grin.

"Yer welcome, son. We'll be seein' you," Mark replied, shaking his hand.

Heather was relieved when he finally left. Her lungs ached like she was holding in a breath fire the duration of his visit. She did not understand his so-called infatuation. They did not exactly run in the same social circle. She wondered if he realized she couldn't stand the thought of associating herself with him after what his sister and her lemmings had done. At least they would set out on the road once again after tomorrow, she thought as she was loading the dishes into the dishwasher.


	4. Chapter 4.

Another run, another town. This time, they landed in Charlotte, NC. They arrived a day early so they wouldn't be so jet-lagged. Mark drove the rental car towards their hotel with Heather in the front seat, reading while Reves stretched out in the backseat. Rev was staring out the window listening to her Saliva CD. They passed the arena where tomorrow's Raw would be held. As they passed the venue, Reves bolted up reading the electronic sign. "No way!" she shouted as she reached forward to grab Heather's should, causing her to jump and drop her book in her lap.

"What?" Heather asked with alarm in her voice.

"Linkin Park! They're doing a show at the arena tonight."

Heather turned back and squinted to decipher the lettering on the sign that was growing smaller in the distance

Reves leaned between the seats and turned towards her father. "Can we go, Dad?" she asked, hopeful.

"Eh, girl you know I ain't into all that new stuff they got today. Ain't even music." Mark replied.

Reves made an exasperated grunt, throwing herself back into the seat, arms folded over her chest. She didn't know what pissed her off more: the fact that the answer was always no, or his roundabout answers sometimes.

Heather picked up her book, finding her place. It was a pity, she would have liked the see the show. It had been a long time since they had been to any concerts and as he stated, Mark thought most of their favorite artists were just noise. Disappointed, she turned back to her book. Rosario had just revealed to Ambrosio in the grotto, that he is in fact a woman!

After a few minutes, they arrived at the hotel to check-in. They turned to head towards the elevators when they notice Matt, Jeff, and Amy entering the lobby. Matt raised his hand over his head and waved at them.

Mark approached the three of them and the girls followed. "Hey, boys. Hey, Amy." Mark greeted them. "Didn't know you were getting in early too."

"We just did a house show in Greensboro last night, so we figured we'd head down here," Jeff replied. His accent seemed somehow broadened by being in his home state.

Mark nodded.

"What's up, girls?" Amy addressed the two teenagers.

"They're pissed at me right now," Mark volunteered.

"I'm not upset," Heather said meekly, looking up at him. Still, her emerald eyes were painted with chagrin.

Reves gave a sideways glance at the younger girl. Yeah right, she thought.

Mark looked down at Heather as well, giving her a half-smile. He was aware she was disappointed. Yet at least she was agreeable. He loved how sweet and easy-going his youngest was. She had the patience of a saint. His oldest daughter was very much the opposite. She was stubborn and cocky with a rebellious streak. Unlike Heather, who naturally fell into obedience, Reves would challenge every command then demand an explanation. If she said the sky was blue, she would insist it was green until he provided a million reasons why she should believe it so.

"They want to go to this damn concert and I ain't up for that," Mark continued. "This Lonkin Prak?"

"Linkin Park," Heather corrected timidly.

"Whatever they are," Mark returned, shaking his head.

"Yeah, we did see that coming in! Love Linkin Park. They are one of my favorite bands," Amy replied elated.

"I know. Too bad we have to miss it," Reves stated, making not attempt to disguise her annoyance.

Mark was becoming agitated. "Girl, will you just drop it?"

Amy glanced between Matt and Jeff in a subliminal understanding, then to Mark. "You know, Mark we were actually thinking of going to the show. We could take the girls if that's not a problem," she smiled at him.

Reves snapped her head towards her father to see his reaction. Heather couldn't help the grin that crept across her face.

"No. It ain't yer responsibility to look after 'em."

Heather's face fell, while Reves's already skeptical face remained the same.

"It's not a problem for us, Mark," Jeff told him, his rainbow hair swayed as he spoke.

"You're sure?" Mark's expression changed to that of confliction. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, mulling it over.

"Positive. It's totally cool," Matt answered him.

A few moments later, Marks's countenance softened, and his shoulders sagged. "Hell," he said dropping his arms. "Alright. Ya'll can go."

The girls squealed as they jumped up and down in elation. Reves's arms flew around his waist. He hugged her back while wishing he would get this type of affection without always having to give her something in return.

"Thank you, Daddy," Heather expressed gratitude as she kissed his cheek.

"Just don't go actin' crazy," he warned them sternly. He turned to the trio. "Thank you, really. Let me know if they get out of hand."

"Oh, I don't think that will happen," Amy grinned.

"Well, let's go get settled in for now," Mark told the girls.

They bid goodbye to their friends and headed to their room after collecting the key.

"Oh my God. I have like nothing to wear!" Reves announced, tossing her suitcase on the bed.

Mark groaned inwardly. Every time she uttered that statement, she usually asked to go shopping. He didn't understand what the hell for, either. Those girls had so many clothes they could clothe a small country. Hell, they could probably feed a small country if they sold even a fraction of their wardrobe.

"I'm just going to wear a pair of Tripp pants and my Hybrid Theory tee shirt. It must be fate that I brought it on this run," Heather said with a contented smile.

Reves glared at her, unzipping her suitcase. Her sister always did an immaculate job of ruining her plans. If baby Heather was content, she was always shut down.

Heather only stared at her questioningly. What had she done?

"Well, girls I'm going to get my workout in down at Gold's Gym. We can get something to eat after," Mark told them.

"Okay." Heather nodded in compliance.

Reves struggled to mask her annoyance. Still, she knew she was darn lucky to be going to the concert so it would have to be a tradeoff.

After Mark changed into his workout clothes, they head down to the rental car and drove the ten minutes to the nearest location of the gym that was popular amongst many of the wrestlers.

"Hey Mark, what's up? Hey girls." They were greeted by Glenn Jacobs, also known as Kane, a close personal friend and wrestling partner of Mark's.

"Hi," the sisters said in unison.

"Hey, man. How are you?" Mark questioned as he approached his friend, getting ready to start his workout.

Heather and Reves settled themselves on a nearby bench. They both carried their CD player for music. Reves pulled out her sketch pad and some pencils, while Heather immersed herself in the scandals of _The Monk_ once again.

Approximately fifteen minutes later, two others walked into the vicinity in the form of a blonde giant and a smaller dark-haired man.

Reves looked up from her drawing in exasperation. It was already turning into a disaster. Her piercing blues fell upon the two men once known as The Outsiders. She supposed it was still a fitting title for them now. After watching them for a few moments, Scott Hall turned towards her with a grin, his chocolate eyes staring back at her. A coy smirk stretched across her lips but was almost immediately replaced by a scowl. He's kinda cute, she said to herself. For an old guy…

Scott chuckled. She was big and bad, alright. But her dark eyeliner and combat boots were a valiant addition to the aesthetic. He watched her tuck a strand of ashy hair behind her ear. And return to her artwork.

Kevin witnessed the exchange, but once she turned back, his eyes shifted to the right and fell upon the tiny creature sitting beside her sister. She sat with her legs crossed under her. She was hunched over a book that's cover he couldn't see. He couldn't see her face because she was wearing a hooded jacket that shielded her face. Still, he knew who she was courtesy of the shiny raven locks marked with violet, that cascaded from the hood creating a curtain over the front of her small frame. He noticed her shoulders quivering, a sign she was either crying or laughing, but he couldn't hear over the din of equipment, chatter, and music coming over the speakers.

She canted her head towards her sister, but her mossy eyes were caught by his. Her delicate lips were tugged at the corners in a bemused grin. Her visage was instantly flushed in a deep crimson and her smile faded. Kevin caught one last glimpse of her eyes from behind her dark-rimmed glasses before she dropped her head, pulling her hood further over her comely face.

Kevin shrugged and turned back to spot his friend. He didn't know why the girl seemed so skittish, like some sort of scared rabbit. Like it matters anyway he told himself. Still, those sparkling eyes burned into his mind for a few more moments.

Heather's heart was beating a little rapidly. She was not anticipating to look up and see Kevin Nash. She wasn't positive, but it would seem he had already been observing her for a few moments. Why would that be? She shuddered. Her dad's friends were some of the oddest people.

Every once in a while, Reves would steal glances in the direction of the two men. She had had to sit and gawk at not only other wrestlers, but every other meathead Joe Smoe in the gym after gym, but she never considered how hot it could be until she was watching Scott's muscles flex as he worked the equipment. She felt a tingling between her legs and sighed inwardly. She hadn't had any since she was dumped by her boyfriend, Erik when she told him she was going on the road with her dad. Thinking of her breakup quickly shifted her thoughts away from Scott. She frowned, closing her sketchbook.

When Mark finished his workout, he hit the shower and changed clothes. After that, they grabbed a bite to eat. Following their meal, they returned to their room where Mark laid down for a nap as he had said. He felt like an old geezer, but he had been doing this for a long time. He started training before the kids were born. Not to mention, the traveling and mental stress sucked the energy right out of him.

In another room connecting off of Mark's, Heather lay on her stomach, her nose still buried in her book. Meanwhile, Reves was restlessly pacing back and forth. They still had a few hours before they could even begin getting ready for the concert. Reves, then suddenly, plopped back onto the bed beside her sister, causing a slight bouncing motion. Heather acknowledged her with a furtive glance and redirected her attention to the scandalous tome.

After a minute or so, Reves spoke, "What do you think of Hall and Nash?" she quizzed the younger girl, keeping her eyes trained on the ceiling.

"What do you mean? I don't think of them," Heather stated flatly, "Other than they being overtly abhorrent, as is everyone else in this industry." Her eyes never left the pages of the book, although she had stopped reading to confer with her sister.

Reves shook her head, "Never mind." She gave a fail-safe smirk.

Heather thought it was odd of her sister to make such an inquiry, but she wasn't the type to prod for answers, so she moved on from it. She deduced she was probably sizing them up to measure if they were true to their word about not snitching. It was not as if they were delinquents. Yet, because of some of the wrestlers' attitudes towards them, Reves liked to know what parties were copasetic and who they needed to steer clear of (not that Rev ever garnered much success in that category).

Finally, it was time to prepare for the concert. The teenagers were listening to the _Hybrid Theory_ album as they were doing their make-up and getting dressed. While they were finishing up, Amy, Matt, and Jeff knocked on the door to pick them up.

As they came out to from the adjacent room, Mark looked the girls over. Heather was fine, of course. "You really think I'm going to let you walk out this door like that?" Mark questioned Reves with his arms folded over his chest.

"What?" she groaned in agitation.

"Don't act naive. I've seen longer skirts that that down in the red-light district." He was exaggerating of course, but that _scrap_ of fabric – sure as hell couldn't call it a skirt – not on his daughter!

Reves's eyes flashed and Heather, mentally pleaded with her to not let slip the words that came next, "And what would you know about the length of the skirts in the red-light district?"

Mark glared at her with fire in his eyes. He clenched his fist, talking himself down. The tension in the room was as thick as mud. Amy and the boys shuffled their feet in awkward discomfort. "Go put something else on, or you are not going," Mark demanded in an even but grousing tone.

"Aye, aye Captain," Reves saluted in her most benevolent disposition before walking towards the other room.

Mark released an aggravated growl, turning to the three that were waiting, "Sorry guys." Thanks again for doing this."

"Nothing to thank us for. Already told you that," Matt stated.

A minute later, Reves reappeared with a pair of leggings on beneath her skirt. "Is this up to your standards?" Reves scoffed.

"Girl, don't push me," Mark warned. "Now listen to Amy and the boys and don't do nothin' stupid," he instructed as they walked out.

 _Anything_. Don't do anything stupid. Heather had the urge to correct him but knew better as he was already heated.

 _Don't do nothin' stupid._ I can think of a million ways to accomplish that, Reves thought to herself.

When they got into the elevator, Reves removed her boots and peeled off the leggings, stuffing them in her bag.

Heather gasped. "Rev, Daddy told you to wear those for reason," the younger sibling reprimanded her.

"Oh please," Reves glared at her.

Heather looked to Amy, Matt, and Jeff for backup. Amy shrugged, "I don't see what's wrong with it," she admitted.

Matt and Jeff were looking to the walls awkwardly. "Ya could have at least went to the ladies' room," Jeff informed Reves.

Heather's shoulders sagged. "Just remember to put them back on before we come home."

"Yes, mommy," Reves spoke sardonically.

They made their way to the rental car. As they did, they passed Scott Hall and Kevin Nash, this time with Hulk Hogan. Heather nodded politely and hurried on.

Reves purposely made eye contact with Scott, though she quickly regretted it when he grinned at her causing her to blush in vain. She averted her eyes and quickened her pace to catch up with the others.

Scott watched her for a moment. Could her skirt possibly be any shorter? Did Mark really let her go out like that? Fat chance. He felt his member twitch involuntarily which freaked him out. He shook off the thought when he heard Kev calling him, "Scotty, hurry the hell up, man."

* * *

"Third row?" Heather exclaimed when Matt handed them their tickets as they waited in line.

"Yeah, not bad for last minute," Amy stated with a smirk, pushing a lock of fiery red hair away from her face.

"Coolio," Reves grinned.

"Thank you for letting us come with you," Heather told them sincerely.

"Yeah, with all due respect to Mark, you two are young. You should be out having fun, not locked up in some hotel or Mark's dressing room," Jeff said in his Carolina accent.

"Glad somebody gets it," Reves sighed as she briefly laid her head on his shoulder, and smiled.

They moved forward in line and it was finally time to present their tickets in exchange for access to the show.

The opening act had been pleasing enough, but it was finally time for the band everyone had been waiting for. Following a few minutes devoted to set up between bands, the main act took the stage. The music flowed out of the speakers and everyone was growing hyped by the intro. The two sisters were so ecstatic to be allowed to be out and revel in something they loved probably more than anything: the music, the instrumentals, the words, and the emotions. Linkin Park was a particularly unique band with their mix of classic rock guitars and drums married with turntables and electronic beats. It was complemented the combination of Mike's perpetual flow and Chester's growly screams.

The band's opener was _With You_ and the audience was already pumped, jumping up and down to the music with their hands in the air.

Midway through the show, Heather gave a shout when she recognized her favorite Linkin Park song, _Points of Authority_. She sang along to all the lyrics breathlessly, _"Forfeit the game before somebody takes you outta the frame and puts your name to shame…"_ Then the song flowed into perhaps their biggest hit, _In the End_.

The five young people lost themselves in the music, the lyrics, the vibe. For a short while, they didn't have to be characters or adhere to someone else's rules. The adrenaline rushed through the sisters' veins and by the end of the show they were too hyped to think about sleep when Amy and the brothers dropped them off at their hotel room at a quarter to midnight after stopping for some fast food.

The girls thanked them again as Reves inserted to keycard into the door. They bid the three goodnights and entered the room. The realization dawned on Reves as she entered the door. "Shit!" she expelled through clenched teeth. She had forgotten to put her leggings back on, so she made a b-line for the adjacent room.

"Hey Rev," a few moments later Heather entered and presented to her a note in their father's sloppy scribble stating he had gone out with some of the boys and would be back later.

"How shocking!" Reves sardonically feigned surprise.

"Dad works really hard. He deserves to relax too." Heather gently reprimanded her older sister, although, in truth, she too felt he could spend less time in bars and with his buddies.

The girls washed the make-up off their faces and changed into their pajamas. They turned on the lights and crawled into bed with _Cruel Intentions_ playing on HBO.

"Do you think with should be like a female Linkin Park?" Reves questioned her younger sister as she twisted a lock of blonde hair between her thumb and forefinger.

"The probability of success on such an endeavor is tremendously low," Heather stated matter of fact. "In other words: no, I don't think we could replicate Chester and Mike's dynamic, despite the fact that we are, in fact, sisters.

"Thanks for crushing my dreams," Reves replied with sarcasm, yet grinned.

They laid there watching the movie until sleep finally overtook them.

* * *

The round of shot glasses hit the table with a disjointed clinking. That was the third round and they were just getting started. It was good to have these motherfuckers partying together again.

"You get let off the chain or what?" Scott asked Mark.

"Fuck off, Hall," Mark grinned as he knocked back a swig of his Jack and Coke.

"He just gets a little slack," Glenn quipped.

"Don't you start your shit too, Jacobs," Mark shot back. Had he not already been buzzed, he probably would have socked them all in the mouth.

On the stage immediately to their left, a leggy blonde slide down the pole that was fixed in the center. She thrust her tight ass towards them as she bent over. Looking back at them, she smiled seductively over her shoulder. Reaching behind her, she unclasped her sequin bra. She turned, facing them. Holding it in place over her chest, she removed her arms from each strap before tossing it aside to reveal her ample breasts.

Down on her knees, she crawled towards Mark. "You're The Undertaker," she stated, jiggling her DDs in front of his face.

She smiled keenly, running her hands over her taut abs and flipped her hair. "So, would you be interested in a private dance, Deadman?" she asked in a husky voice.

"No thanks," he replied flatly. A war was waging inside him. It would be so easy to fall into temptation. Too easy in fact. But he and Sara were finally getting back to a good place. He couldn't fuck that up over one night of getting his dick wet.

Her face fell and distorted into anger. "Deadman? That stands for dead from the waist down, right?" She snarled, drawing jeers and laughter from his friends.

"Hey bitch-" Mark started.

"I got you, sweet thing," Scott intervened, slipping a fifty-dollar bill into the string of her thong.

"The Bad Guy," she grinned, as she turned towards him.

"You got it, Chica," Scott smirked, oozing machismo.

"What do you say? You up for some private fun?"

"You got a friend for my friend?" he canted his head towards Kevin who was sitting to his right, puffing on a fat stogie.

"Certainly. My best friend loves her some Big Sexy." Her tits bounced as she leaned forward, quickly. They both eyed her salaciously. "Hey, Charity!" she called to her friend from across the club.

Charity's chestnut hair sprang as she pulled her attention away from the plump, suited businessman upon whose lap she sat. She watched the smile that played on Candy's sultry lips as a perfectly manicured nail beckoned her over. She saw the group of wrestlers as she approached, leaving her current client confused and disgruntled. She was a little nervous but maintained her charm as her voluptuous hips swayed back and forth.

"Well hello boys," Charity said. Her voice flowed smoothly as silk, "Having a good time?"

"It's decent," Nash shrugged. "But maybe we could turn things up a notched?" The sensuality in his voice made her shudder, drawing moisture between her legs.

This wasn't right she was the one who was supposed to leave her clients and hot and bothered, gushing with lust and desire for her. This was Kevin fucking Nash though. They didn't call him Big Sexy for nothing!

She looked around at the members of their party. "The Bad Guy" Scott Hall, Taker, Kane, and others too.

"What did you have in mind, dear?" Candy asked in an alluringly husky voice.

"The Best Western at 9th and Main, 126 and 127," Scott replied, signature tooth-pick resting in the corner of his mouth.

The young women exchanged wry glances, their lips curved in sultry grins. "Give is about thirty minutes." Candy linked arms with Charity as both women eyed them wantonly before they slinked backstage.

"Can't believe you turned that fine ass down, Mark," Kevin said to him.

"Hell, I remember a time when you would have taken both those broads as once," Scott added.

Mark emptied his glass, placing it on the table with an unintentional bang. "Look, I made a mistake once or twice, but that was a long time ago. I don't do that shit anymore," Mark growled defensively.

"Since when? Since your kids started comin' round?" Scott mused.

Mark's jaw clenched and his gaze locked onto Hall in a furious glare. His knuckles felt tight as his hand balled into a fist. His blood was boiling, but rather than get into a brawl, get got up and started to walk out. "I'm outta here! I got better things to do than hang around with you dumb fucks," his thick accent boomed.

"What crawled up his ass?" Nash questioned.

Glenn slapped his forehead. "You two _are_ dumb fucks. He almost got divorced before the whole stalker angle, they did. Spending the time with Sara helped save his marriage," he told them. "He was also having issues with his kids at that time. You set him off pretty bad."

Hall and Nash felt rather shitty after that, but there was no way they could have known. They didn't talk with Mark too often during their years with WCW or on their hiatus either. Still, they figured Mark would get over it rather quickly, so they shrugged it off after a few moments.

"Well, it looks like we have some business to attend to brother," Kev said to Scott as he stood up with a smug expression painting his face.

"Hey, you wanna switch broads?" Scott asked him.

Nash furrowed his brows at the absurdity of the request. "Fuck no!"

They exited the club, hardly paying any mind to Glenn as they left him there, stuck with everyone's tabs.

"Gee, thanks assholes," Glenn groused under his breath as he pulled two hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and threw them on the bar before leaving himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R.I.P. Chester.


	5. Chapter 5.

The next day was passing in a rather mundane manner as the girls were coming down from the excitement of last night's show. They sat in the cafeteria at catering with their father, sipping tea from styrofoam cups. Reves's face distorted at the taste of the brackish liquid. "For a billion-dollar company, you would think they could provide something better than Lipton."

"You know, unfortunately, they do have to allocate a budget for such expenses," Heather turned to her and stated.

"They order like ten gallons of soup. Soup! Surely, they can _squeeze_ in the for some Republic of Tea, Celestial Seasons, something!" Rev argued.

"Girl shut yer mouth. It's all the same," Mark chided her.

Heather had a myriad of responses and facts to counter that statement, but she felt it was best to let it be.

She looked to the door when the three men that comprised the New World Order faction entered. Although the whole nWo angle was work, like every other story presented on the program, Heather's innate observation revealed to her the tension that pervaded the room.

Some paid little mind to the scenario. To them work was work. Others still stared at them warily, wishing to send them to the gallows. Heather knew all too well that even though her father considered them to be friends, he held the industry in the highest esteem. There was no possibility he would allow them to return to this company and proceed to usurp authority.

She supposed the idiom went as _'life imitates art'._ Still, she wasn't positive how much truth there was to the rumors that they had decimated WCW from the inside out. However, she was certain that AOL/Time Warner was in dire financial straits when Vince McMahon finally bought them out.

Lastly, there was that absurd urban legend that Mr. McMahon had sent Hall and Nash to WCW to destroy it. Judging by the glares and tension, that didn't seem likely at all. These prospects all made her a little apprehensive.

Heather blinked and shook her head. What did it matter? She was aware she was often known to overanalyze situations at times. Perhaps reading too many Shakespeare plays had left her in that mindset. After all, was not all the world a stage?

As Heather was entangled in discerning myths from concrete facts, Reves had her eyes fixed on Scott Hall as he dispensed coffee from a giant urn. She couldn't help but stare at him in those snug black jeans, his t-shirt stretched tightly across his chest. His gleaming onyx hair was pulled back into its trademark braid. She gazed at the dark stubble on her chin, wondering briefly what it would feel like scrapping against her sensitive skin, before her surroundings and her wits caught up with her.

She pulled her attention away and turned towards her sister. "Are you almost done?" she questioned impatiently as Heather nibbled a turkey sandwich.

"Yeah, girl hurry up," Mark instructed after looking at the clock.

"Yes sir," Heather replied before taking a bigger bite.

Kevin and Terry joined Scott as he was adding sugar to his coffee.

"Don't you think you're sweet enough?" Kevin asked with a shit-eating grin.

"Shut up, you dick," Scott retorted, but returned the grin.

"Someone seems to think so," Kev shifted his eyes towards the table where Mark and the girls sat. "Looks like you got yourself a little mark."

Scott turned his head nonchalantly just as she was glancing over again. Their eyes met and she averted her gaze quickly. Abruptly, she stood, her folding chair caused a loud screech as she did so. She cursed the noise for drawing more attention to her than there should have been. She collected her trash and scurried to the garbage bin before anyone could see her crimson face.

Heather got up, following suit and Mark was in tow.

Scott chuckled. It would seem someone had a little crush. He was used to young girls being infatuated with him. Still, he found it hilarious that her badass attitude was probably a front.

The sisters walked a few feet in front of Mark. Heather linked arms with her sister. She looked distressed. "Are you alright?" she asked with concern.

Reves glanced over her shoulder at her father. "I'm fine," she looked at her younger sibling, hoping she sounded convincing.

Heather wasn't so sure, but she didn't know how to approach the issue. Nothing had seemed to change, yet her sister seemed…distracted. She knew Reves would not speak to her about it in their father's presence, so she dropped her inquisition.

They made their way back to Mark's locker room. "Kay, girls. I got an interview I gotta do. It shouldn't take too long. Just hang out here for now," Mark instructed.

Reves rolled her eyes and fell back on the leather couch, folding her arms over her chest.

Mark took notice of this and scowled. "Do you have a problem with my work schedule, little girl?" his voice bellowed. Ninety percent of it was a scare tactic to keep them in line, but he was defiantly not the type to be disrespected.

Reves straightened her face, dropping her hands into her lap. She looked down at her boots. "No sir, I don't," she answered, trying her best to sound compliant.

"That's exactly what I thought. Now, don't go getting into trouble," he warned as he exited the room. He closed to door behind him and he was gone.

"That sounds like a challenge," Reves grinned.

"No, Rev. We already got into hot water last week for messing around in the ring. Remember?" Heather chided her sister.

Reves's eyes flashed with mischief as Heather made mention of the squared circle. She leaned on the armrest of the couch in front of her sister and peered into her eyes. "C'mon. Are you just gonna sit here and read like a dork?" she asked as she snatched the copy of _Animal Farm_ from her sister's delicate hands.

"That was my intention," the ebony-haired girl replied, attempting to retrieve her book.

"Ugh, I'm so bored! You expect me to just sit here and do nothing?"

"I wasn't aware that your entertainment was dependent upon me," Heather stated in a rare, caustic tone.

"I'll just keep this with me," Reves held up her sister's book. "Or perhaps, it will make its way to the men's urinals," she threatened, her lips pursed wickedly.

Heather's eyes widened at the thought of the abuse and destruction of the novel. "That is my coursebook, in case any form of consciousness eludes you," she informed her sister, the edge cut through her voice.

Reves shrugged and headed for the door. Heather stood up and followed after her. "Come on, Rev. You know we are supposed to stay put."

"Dad never does interviews," Reves ejected, becoming serious all of a sudden.

"What do you mean?" Heather questioned, a little unnerved by her sister's expression. "Is that what made you upset earlier?"

They had stopped now and stood in the corridor.

"No," Reves admitted, "But don't you think it's funny?"

Heather paused momentarily to ponder the thought. Not where she was concerned, it wasn't. Their father was a busy man with a hectic schedule. She still didn't understand her sister's notion. Not until it dawned on her, making her gasp and blush. "You still don't trust him, do you?"

Reves only shook her head in response. She was harboring a grudge. This man was their father. He was supposed to be the foundation of their family and had lied and deceived them all. Her mother was supposed to be the glue, though she was guilty as well. It was just more difficult to crucify her given her sacrifices and her suffering to keep the family from falling apart.

"Rev, I don't think Dad- it's not our concern, I suppose…" Heather trailed off, looking away.

* * *

She remembered that day, a little over a year ago. They had come home from school. They usually found their mother in the kitchen starting dinner at that time. That day, however, she was absent when they entered the kitchen. They made their way upstairs, calling for her.

"I'll be out in a minute, girls," she called back to them from her bedroom. After a couple of minutes, she emerged from her bedroom. Her eyes were red and puffy. She had been crying and the girls were surprised. Their mother was an affectionate and loving woman, but they had rarely witnessed her cry.

"Mom, what's wrong?" Reves questioned.

"Is it Daddy?" Heather's hands flew over her mouth in alarm.

Fresh tears were threatening to spill from their mother's eyes again. "No, he's fine." There was a bitter edge to her voice. "It's nothing you girls need to concern yourselves with." She wiped away the tears and tried to smile.

Her answer only piqued the girl's disquietude. For they perceived the shock and betrayal in their mother's eyes. The two sisters exchanged glances. They were well aware that something awful had taken place. Their mother didn't just cry for no apparent reason.

"I'm fine girls, really. Come on," she said, putting an arm around each girl. It was time for her to dry it up. There were the kids to think of. "Can you help me peel potatoes for dinner? Your brothers will be starved when they come home from football practice."

Later that night, Heather had approached her parents' room again to inquire if her favorite shirt had come out of the wash. She heard her mother speaking to someone. "Yes Mom," her voice cracked as if she was crying again. "He forgot his cell phone when he left out this morning. It had a voicemail from a woman named Vivian telling him how much she missed him, and couldn't wait to see him again."

Heather's stomach leaped up into her throat. Her hand clasped over her mouth to muffle the gasp that escaped her. She immediately turned on her heels, running in the other direction before she was discovered. Getting away in such a rush, she knocked into a credenza, nearly toppling a group of framed photos.

She hurried to her sister's room and closed to door behind her. Breathless and in tears, she revealed to her sister the shocking secret that had their mother so devastated.

Reves immediately became enraged. She was furious with her father. Even though she knew it was between her parents, she was sure to let him know about it the next time he returned home. Despite being grounded for their alleged _meddling,_ Reves was glad she had said her peace. It was a fault of hers, she couldn't sit back in silence if she knew something was wrong.

* * *

The sisters were drawn back to the present when their eyes met. "Come on, humor me. Give me a good fight," Reves smiled, trying to chase away the brooding feelings rising up in her.

Smiling sweetly, Heather relented as her sister took her hand. "Okay, okay. Just one."

Down in the ring, the sisters were having themselves a mock match-up. Truthfully, they didn't have any experience. They simply mimicked what they saw in the ring. They knew there was a method to the madness. They had seen countless "DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME" ads. However, they could only fill their time so many ways while on the road.

"You are going to break your necks like that," a deep baritone voice scold them from out of nowhere.

Both girls jumped and stood up on their feet. Heather's heart, which was already pounding from the surprise, accelerated more. They would be in for it now. The sister looked over to see Hall and Nash entering the ring. Heather took notice of the way Nash stepped over the top rope. Her father did not even do that. Heather lowered her gaze when he looked at her. She hugged her body self-consciously. She didn't feel overly uncomfortable, but the thought of someone watching her perform shenanigans in such a mediocre fashion left her absolutely mortified.

Reves, on the other hand, had no qualms in displaying her displeasure at the interruption of their theatrics. With her hands on her hips, her face was fixed in a glare and she tapped her foot on the canvas.

"Oh, sorry. Don't realize the ring was already rented out," Hall said sarcastically.

"Looks like you were having yourselves a five-star match," Nash added.

The sisters glanced at each other and Heather went red. Why did it seem as if these two were always around all of a sudden?

"Look chicas, you got no business down in this ring if you don't know what you're doing. Big Kev is right. You could get seriously hurt," Scott admonished them.

Heather nodded in compliance while Reves rolled her eyes.

"Does Mark know you're down here?" Kevin asked

"No, Mr. Nash," Heather replied.

Kevin raised an eyebrow at her. "Really? What do I look like, some fucking fat, old history teacher?" he questioned with his massive arms folded across his broad chest.

Scott laughed. "May I use the bathroom, Mr. Nash?" he begged jumping up and down with his hand raised.

Heather's face registered bewilderment and shock. Even though her father was a monster of a man, she was not acquainted with being in such proximity to someone else of such enormous stature. It all made her feel anxious and intimidated.

"N-no, sir," she mumbled. She couldn't comprehend what the issue was. She was merely being respectful like her daddy taught her. She made it a point to interact that was with everyone so they wouldn't have a cause to give her father a bad report.

She momentarily made eye contact. Her father was always chiding her about looking people in the eye when she was speaking with them. It was a challenge. She was shy by nature and the torment she endured while at school made it all the more difficult.

Kevin looked in the petite girl's eyes and instantly felt like a dick. He hadn't meant to come off so brash. She seemed like a sweet girl and it was probably something rooted in her due to her southern upbringing.

"Hey, don't be so rude to my sister," Reves clucked. "She was only being polite and respectful, which I can say, is more than you would get from me. You gotta earn that shit."

Scott's eyes widened in a mocking fashion as he wiggled his fingers playfully in one of his signature taunts.

Kevin on the other hand glowered down at her. "And what the fuck did we ever do to you?"

"Well," her brazen attitude was faltering. "Just don't scare my sister, okay? Just because you guys are all big and buff doesn't mean you have to act like dickheads."

"Reves!" Heather gasped. "You should apologize, now. Please" It was taking a considerable amount of courage for Heather to chide her sister. She was nearly squirming as she spoke.

"For what?" Reves shrugged her shoulders.

Kevin inhaled sharply and shifted his stance. He was half a second was from smacking the little brat.

Scott looked at his best friend and stifled a laugh. Was he really letting the kid get to him? He cracked a grin and his tongue manipulated the toothpick between his lips.

Stealing a glance at him, Reves was all too curious as to what else that tongue could do. Her face became flush, though she was battling to keep her cool.

"You alright there?" Scott asked as he removed the toothpick from his mouth.

Reves was pulled from her little fantasy by the sound of his voice. "What?" she snapped.

Scott stared at his buddy and this time their eyes met. They were well aware of how challenging traveling and living on the road was. It was miserable for a grown man. They couldn't imagine what it was like for a couple of teen girls. Which begged the question as to what they were doing there.

Kevin's seething expression began to slip away. "Look, just don't be fucking around down here alright?" He turned towards Heather. "And I'm sorry for coming off as a prick. That's kind of just my personality." He bowed to emphasize his apology. "But Kevin is fine if you don't mind."

She blushed and smiled shyly at the comical gesture. "It's quite alright," she forced herself to speak.

"Don't you think you oughta get back before Mark's interview is up?" Scott suggested.

"Shit!" Reves exclaimed and Heather gasped. They were sure it had been past an hour. Without any further acknowledgment to the two outsiders, Heather scrambled out of the ring. Reves gave one last glance at Scott and followed suit.

The two men stood in the ring and watched them disappear backstage.

"Annoying, fucking marks," Kevin grumbled.

"What are you moaning about over there, Big Grumpy? Girl didn't put you over?" Scott chided the larger man.

Kev ignored his inquiry and threw his arm around the smaller man's should. "You're lucky we're brothers Scotty."


	6. Chapter 6.

"It was absolutely mortifying, Amy," Heather informed her friend as she regaled the sisters' latest encounter with Hall and Nash.

"It was annoying," Reves groused, leaning against the wall.

Amy chuckled. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"Sure, if you don't mind a hole in the head," Reves said, bleeding sarcasm.

Amy rolled her eyes playfully. "Did Mark find out?"

"Not thus far," Heather shrugged. "I told Rev it wasn't a good idea, at any rate."

"Oh, cut your _Little Miss Perfect_ shit. You were out there, same as me." Rev snipped.

"If you recall, I was trying to read," Heather retorted.

Amy was amused by the sisters' squabbling. "Alright. Let's just agree that it was both mortifying and annoying." She shook her head with a smile. "Do you think your dad would let you hang out with us tonight? The boys and I are going to meet up with Jason and Adam. Trish might come out too."

"We could ask, I guess," Reves shrugged, "but it's probably best not to mention the others."

Heather looked a little nervous as Amy glanced at her. "Well, it's cool. Just let us know, okay? I gotta go meet up with the boys," she nodded as she started to walk off. She turned towards them again but didn't stop. "Hey, where is that demo?"

"Soon," the girls promised in unison as Amy disappeared.

Reves glanced as Heather with an amused smile stretched across their lips. "We are not sisters," she quipped as she started down the hall.

"You know Dad won't let us go if he finds out Jason and Adam are going to be there. He barely trusts Matt and Jeff around us." Heather reminded her sister as she followed after.

"Did you not hear what I just said? He doesn't have to know they will be there."

"Rev, that's lying," Heather chided gently.

"No, it isn't," Rev countered, "It's just not revealing all the details." She grinned.

They found their father in his dressing room. He was dressed in his singlet, leather pants, and boots, preparing for his upcoming match. "Where were you?" He questioned as they entered. They were thankful he hadn't learned about their incident two days ago.

"Just talking to Amy," Heather replied innocently.

"You know I don't like you just roaming around bothering people."

"We don't bother Amy, Dad," Reves interjected with an air of agitation. "In fact, she wanted to know if we could hang out with them after Smackdown."

"And who is _them_?" Mark asked in his gruff voice.

Reves rolled her eyes defiantly. "It's just Amy, Matt, and Jeff,"

Rev's poker face was pretty expert; however, it was usually Heather who gave them away. She shifted on her heels and didn't meet Mark's gaze.

Mark took his eyes from Heather back to Reves. "And who else?" He gave her another chance to shoot straight with him.

Reves averted her eyes to her sister with a scowl. She stood there with her head bowed and her hands folded in front of her. Reves wasn't fearful of meeting her father's gaze, however. "Jason and Adam. Maybe Trish, too."

"No way. Not happening," Mark growled

Reves started, "But, what's the-"

"Listen, girl, I said no. I don't owe you a damn explanation for my decision!" Mark roared.

Reves pursed her lips. The anger was rising up in her, and she was doing her best to keep it contained. That is exactly what he had said when she approached him about his infidelities. Deep down she knew that, but she couldn't help but fight against injustice. If she couldn't trust those who were supposed to be closest to her, who in this God-forsaken world could she trust?

"Listen, I have to head out for my match. I don't want to hear any more about this when I come back," he told them, looking at each girl in turn.

Heather nodded bashfully and demurred, "Yes, Sir."

"Hmph," Reves plopped down on the leather couch, her face distorted in an unabashed scowl.

"Was I misunderstood somehow?" Mark questioned.

"No, Sir! I heard you loud and clear," Reves grinned so wide it hurt.

"Don't give me that sarcastic shit!" Mark warned her. "I'm not in the mood, girl." He walked out, leaving the sisters alone.

"Yes, Sir!" Reves mocked Heather in a high-pitched squeak. "You are such an ass kisser. You're lame as fuck.

Heather's bright green eyes fell upon her sister. "Yes, it is quite the tragedy that I chose to obey the boundaries set in place by our parents, particularly our father – as stern a man that he is," she shot back, picking up her book.

Reves grabbed her notebook and started scribbling down angry lyrics. She was already thinking of the melody and an awesome riff that might work. Unfortunately, they didn't bring any instruments tonight.

After some time, Heather's eyes shifted from the pages of her book. Her sister looked restless. "What's wrong?" she asked with gentle concern.

"I'm tired of being ignored like everything we say doesn't matter," Reves divulged as she put her notebook down on the coffee table.

"Rev, we matter a lot. Why do you think Mom and Dad make the sacrifices they do?" Heather attempted to reassure her.

"Easy for you to say. You weren't deceived your entire life," Reves seethed. "They just didn't listen to you, did they? Better to just be written off than lied to."

Blue orbs met green as Heather winced. Why would she bring that up? "Rev, please…" her timid voice trailed off.

"I'm not trying to upset you. I'm just saying don't act like they are parents of the year when they've failed in more way than one."

Heather lowered her head and stared at the book in her lap. She never felt like her parents had failed. She loved them and felt they did the best they could. When she was young, she thought that was how all families were. The father went out on the road and came back a couple times a month. She quickly learned they this was not the case, that her family was not like others. _Had they been there…_

She stopped herself. It was not their fault.

Just then, Mark came through the door, startling Heather. He was sweaty and exhausted following his match. He looked at his daughters. Reves was still raging. _Fine let her sulk_ , he thought. Make sat down to unlace his boots. His bones ached as he did so and he was irritated as usual. He needed a good stiff drink, but he decided to wait until they got back to the hotel to let them know that Angle had invited him out for a couple of drinks after their match.

"How was your match, Dad?" Heather inquired.

"It went over alright," he replied, removing his boots. "I'm gonna take a shower and we can head to the hotel." He grabbed a towel and a change of clothes and headed towards the showers.

"Ok," the girls answered.

When they were settled at the hotel, Mark informed the girls that he would be meeting up with his friends.

Reves's eyes flared and her face distorted into a grimace. "Why don't you just leave us at home? It's obvious we are nothing but a burden."

Mark's head snapped in her direction and he stared daggers through her for a moment. "Girl, I am getting so sick of your shit. News flash: I'm the parent. You're the kid! I'm going to have a drink with my buddies. Now I suggest you get to bed, we have to be up early to head out and I don't want to hear your bitching in the morning," he barked at her.

Heather lowered her head. She wished her sister would not provoke their father in the manner that she did. She always became skittish when her father raised his voice. He was never abusive. He was simply stern and imposing and that was enough to have her quaking in her Chuck Taylors. She loved her father very much but when she was younger a simple glance could reduce her to tears. Mark would proceed to warn her to dry it up before he gave her something to cry about, inducing even more squalling and rendering Mark guilt-ridden.

Reves, on the other hand, had always been the most rebellious of his four kids. Mark wasn't sure if it was because she was the oldest or if she had always felt that something wasn't right. But she was fearless and would tell anyone exactly what she was thinking at any given moment.

That wasn't to say Mark wanted his children to fear him, but damn it, he demanded respect, especially from his kids. Fuck, his body was already beaten and broken down to give them this life. What more did they want? Was it really such a crime for him to unwind with his buddies for a couple of hours?

Reves swallowed her rage. "Ok, sir," she mumbled heading into the adjacent room.

Mark turned towards Heather. "Get some sleep, girl," he said calmly, though his voice was still gruff.

She nodded. "Good night, Dad,"

"Night, girl," he replied as he headed for the door.

After he shut the door behind him, Heather sighed and turned towards the other room.

"Is he gone?" Reves asked bitterly.

Heather only nodded and sat down on the bed to untie her black Converses.

Reves grabbed her journal where she kept phone numbers and other important information. She hopped back to the other side of the bed and reached for the telephone that sat on the side table. Looking from the page to the keypad, she began to dial out.

"What are you doing?" Heather inquired as she pulled off her shoe and set it on the floor. She could hear the phone ringing on the other end. "Rev?"

"Shhhh!" Reves hushed her sister harshly. "Hey, Amy!" she greeted brightly.

"Hey, what's up?" Heather heard Amy say through the receiver and she leaned in closer to her sister to hear more.

"Not much. But yeah, Dad said he was totally cool with us hanging out for a little bit."

Eyes wide, Heather gasped. Reves's hand flew over her mouth. With her shoulder holding the receiver in place, she brought the index finger of her other hand to her rouge-painted lips. Her brows were furrowed together in a scowl.

Amy was silent a moment, "Eh, you're sure? I've never known Mark to be _"totally cool"_ with much of anything."

Reves's visage faltered a little. She was just glad Amy couldn't see her. "Well, you know. He bitched, of course," She said nonchalantly, "but as long as we don't do anything crazy and we're back in a couple hours."

Heather tore her sister's hand away. "Rev!" she whispered hoarsely.

Reves kicked her younger sister in the shin with her steel-toed boot and continued listening to Amy.

"Ow!" Heather yelped in pain and rubbed the inflicted area.

"Yeah. You can come to our room and pick us up. No Dad's gone. Ok, see, ya!" Rev wrapped up the conversation and put the phone on the hook.

"Rev!" Heather scolded her when she hung up. "What are you thinking? You can't go out behind Daddy's back."

"Of course, we can," she replied unfazed, getting up to reapply her eyeliner.

"Oh no, I'm not going anywhere!"

"Are you seriously going to be a puss and just go to bed like some old lady?" Reves pressed. "You don't think it is the slightest bit unfair that Dad gets to run around with all his friends while we sit here like we're in a nursing home? Come on! We're teenagers, this is the shit we do. You really wanna look back on your life and realize you were a loser who only followed the rules and never did anything fun?" Reves asked as she pulled her to her feet.

"I didn't get the memo," Heather grumbled. "And, yes, because I will have made it to my elder years. Which is more than I can say for you if you go through with this."

Reves scoffed. "Well, I'm going whether you want to stay here and be a goody-two-shoes or not."

"Rev, really. Think about this," Heather pleaded.

"I have. Maybe you should think about not being such a prude," Reves said casually as she changed from her baggy jeans to a light leather skirt.

"I am not a prude," Heather protested, "I just-"

"I'm just a widdle, innocent baby, who can't fink for myself, or do anything if Mommy and Daddy don't tell me it's ok. Reves interrupted, mocking her in a high-pitched voice.

"Whatever." Heather jerked her head to the side. She was hoping even after watching her sister change her clothes that it was all a charade. Then, there was a knock on the door and she knew it was Amy, possibly the Hardys too. She gave her sister a pleading look while she grabbed her leather jacket and sauntered past her.

"Last chance to prove you're not a total spaz." Reves tilled.

Had she not been so apprehensive, Heather would have reprimanded her on her dated slang just to trump her for her mockery.

Reves answered the door to Amy and the Hardys standing outside. "Hey guys," she grinned.

"Woah, Rev. We said we were gonna hang out, not hit every club in town," Jeff teased.

"Well, it's not my fault my dad is an old fogy and doesn't realize it's not 1952. I never get to wear this stuff."

The trio only rolled their eyes at the blonde teen.

"Where is Heather?" Amy asked.

"Eh, I think she's got a date at midnight, with Nosferatu," she said, referencing a Type O Negative song. Rev paused a moment. "Scratch that. He's too cool for her," she murmured more to herself than the others. "She's being a puss and doesn't want to come," she directed her attention to her friends.

"Well, whatever. That's fine," Matt shrugged.

Heather could hear them conversing in the adjacent section of the room. She stood there, rocking on her heels and wringing her hands. She was in a moral dilemma at the hands of her sister. She knew without question it was best to follow their father's instructions and stay in the room. On the other hand, she didn't appreciate her sister's disparagement at her expense. This was a topic they had seminars concerning in middle and high school gyms throughout the nation. It was called peer pressure and she could feel herself giving into it. Deep down, she knew this made her seem like a total lemming, but she didn't want Amy and the boys to think she was lame. Furthermore, she needed to look after her sister, right? That was one of her father's number one rules: if he wasn't around, they were to always stick together.

At that moment, Reves popped her head into the room. "Later, loser," she teased and then disappeared.

An aggravated sensation washed over Heather as she grabbed her high tops and sat down on the bed. _I should have told them she was lying. Why didn't I do that?_ She wondered as she slipped on her shoes and tied the laces.

She knew perfectly well why she didn't reveal the truth. Firstly, she didn't want Reves angry at her. It was a pitiful excuse, but her sister was known to bear grudges over the simplest matters. Next, for whatever reason, she didn't want Amy and the guys to be upset with Rev. Thinking about it, the sooner it was revealed, probably the less damage it would inflict. But the ball was already rolling. She just hoped they wouldn't be in any deep trouble.

Heather grabbed her bag, slinging it on her back, and exited the room, letting the door lock behind her. She stared at it for a moment. No going back now. She walked hurried down the hall, catching sight of the elevator doors closing at the end of the corridor.

She hoped that was them. She didn't shout out or make a scene because she had no desire to embarrass herself if it turned out not to be her friends. Besides, they wouldn't have been able to get the doors open in time. She prayed she could catch up with them before they left.

She continued on, her head slightly bent, as per the norm. As she rushed down the hall, almost reaching the elevator at the end, she collided with a mammoth figure as they were exiting their room. She let out an "Umph," as she stumbled backward. "Oh, s-s-sorry," she stuttered immediately before even looking up. When she did, her face must have registered the shock she felt. She followed her gaze up to the face of the giant, Kevin Nash. Their eyes met briefly before her headshot back down. She felt the heat creeping across her cheeks. She repeated "S-sorry," as she stepped around him and his friend, Scott Hall before scurrying away.

Kevin shook his head. "That kid's got major issues. I'm telling you. What a fuckin' space-case," he told his best friend. He briefly wondered where she was rushing off to in such a hurry all by herself but decided he didn't give a fuck that much.

"C'mon, brother. Let's have some fun," Scott tapped Kev's chest with the back of his hand.

"Damn right," Kevin grinned at him and pushed those melancholy, green eyes out of his thoughts. She was a teenager and a female at that. They were always getting melodramatic about one thing or another.

Heather breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the elevator. She was used to seeing wrestlers and other company employees around, but why did it appear that those two were ever-present, no matter where that was? She supposed truthfully, she and her sister were in their territory, yet, it instilled an unnerving sensation within her.

She stepped off the elevator and gazed around the lobby. She didn't see her sister or the rest of the gang. She rushed outside. As much as she protested this little rendezvous, she wasn't too keen on being locked out of the room until her father (no doubt incurring his wrath) or Reves returned.

Scanning the parking lot, Heather's eyes fell upon the group getting into a rental car at the other end. She sprinted towards them. She waved her hands over her head feeling like a lunatic. When she closed the distance, she shouted, "Hey guys! Wait for me," as they started to pull away

Matt, who was the driver, took notice of her and stopped the vehicle. She opened the door and hopped in the back next to Jeff.

Athletic was never a term one would use to describe Heather Calaway. Therefore, her breath came out shallow and ragged. Her face was flushed due to both her exertion and the degradation she suffered from her asinine display. Her limbs and her abdomen ached from her efforts.

Jeff looked at her with his kind green eyes, "Change your mind?" he asked.

Heather only smiled through her humiliation.

Reves, who was seated on the other side of Jeff, leaned forward to speak to her sister, "Can you go back to the door? I want to see that again." She broke into laughter mid-sentence.

Heather simply rolled her eyes as she fastened her seatbelt and Matt began to drive away.

"So where are we going anyway?" Reves wondered aloud.

There was silence for a moment before Matt finally spoke up. "Now don't go thinking this means you can go hog wild, but we know a guy who will let ya'll into his bar to sing karaoke. _Not_ to drink, ok?"

"What?" the sister practically shouted in unison.

"They let in 18 and up. Rev, you're good and you will get a no-alcohol bracelet."

"Well, that'll come off easily," Reves quipped"

"For real," Amy said in a serious tone. "We are taking a huge risk here. Not only will Mark flip shit and want to kill us all, we could get in a lot of trouble for bringing someone underage in there and so could Benny."

"Wait, we can't do this. It's utterly ludicrous, not to mention, illegal!" Heather chimed in.

"Are you not already in the car?" Reves questioned her sister.

"Yes, but-"

"But, argument invalid."

"No, there is an exuberant amount of validity to my argument."

"Oh, speak plain fucking English for once," Reves barked.

"You are wrong," Heather said, flatly.

"Can't we just get along?" Jeff asked feigning uneasiness, "No need to fight."

"We're not fighting," they practically shouted at him

Jeff threw his arms up in defense. "Sorry," he demurred.

"In all sincerity, I do not believe this is the wisest idea," Heather reiterated.

Amy turned around and looked at her. "Heather it will be fine. Just stick close to up. We'll look after you. And we'll have you back in an hour or two," she smiled.

Approximately ten minutes later, Matt parked the car on the curb and exited, heading towards the bar.

Matt headed to the side of the building in the alleyway. "We have to come in on the side," he told them.

They followed him, Heather toeing the line. "Just when I thought I was a unique individual, I find my life is a book of teenage tropes," she muttered to herself.


	7. Chapter 7.

They approached the door and it opened as if their arrival had been anticipated at that exact moment. A short man on the plumper sider with tattoos and five or six facial piercings emerged in the doorway.

The two sisters exchanged a nervous glance. Even Rev had to admit that this was a little more than creepy and she was having second thoughts a little too late.

"Hey guys," he greeted the trio. He had to be Benny, the one matt mentioned. "Come on in." He pulled the door open wider and they followed him through it.

Both Rev and Heather hung back a moment, unsure of whether they should enter. After a moment, Rev grabbed Heather by the hand and pulled her along. She felt her younger sister tense up as she did so.

They followed Benny into a dimly light hall. "Here are your no-alcohol bands." He held up the bright orange strips of paper. Reves offered her arm and he wrapped it around her wrist and secured it with an adhesive under a piece of peel-away wax paper. Heather reluctantly followed suit. "I don't expect to see you doing any drinking," he said firmly.

"Thanks for this man," Jeff said to him.

"No problem. Just so long as they don't cause any trouble," Benny replied, then disappeared.

"How'd you manage that?" Reves asked them.

"We hook him up with free merch. And tickets sometimes," Matt shrugged.

They emerged from the hall into a wide room with a small stage on the far wall. The lighting was barely any brighter than the hall and various colored spotlights pointed in different directions.

They noticed someone waving at them from a table in the left corner of the club. They approached the corner to see Adam, Jason, and Trish sitting at the table.

"Mark actually let you out?" Jason asked in amazement.

"Well, I'm sure if he knew we were coming here he would have reconsidered." Reves cast a fake glare at her friends.

Apprehensively Heather stretched her lips into a sliver of a smile as they sat down at the table.

"Must be rough not having anyone your own age to hang out with," Trish said sympathetically.

Heather nodded in agreement, while Reves responded, "What's rough is having a dad who doesn't listen to anything you say and wants to keep you locked up like a damn animal."

Trish looked a little perplexed and shocked by the statement that came from Reves's mouth. "I'm…sorry," she said, at a loss of words.

"Well, at least he is giving you a little freedom," Adam stated unknowingly.

Reves simply replied, "Yeah." Before looking away. Her eyes scanned the vicinity. When her gaze fell upon the back corner the breath caught in her chest. She stared at the figure a moment before her attention was driven away.

"Rev, what are you looking at?" Amy asked.

"Nothing," she smiled as convincingly as she could manage.

Amy chuckled. "Whatever."

Heather sat with her head lowered and her arms folded over her chest. She hadn't uttered a single word aside from the meek hello she gave when they first arrived. The others were chattering, but she was vaguely aware. She sighed. She wanted to go back to the hotel. She felt odd in this place and she was too frightened of their father discovering their activities. Uneasy, she shifted in her seat, regretting her choice to chase everyone down and tag along.

* * *

I thought Kid said this place was the shit?" Scott griped with his elbow propped on the table like a bored schoolboy.

Kevin turned towards his friend, his blonde hair falling off his shoulder. "No offense, you're really going to trust Kid's judgment in this? I'm sure he meant it was the _shits_."

This place _was_ the shits. They should have turned around and gone somewhere else when they saw the kids in front of them getting slapped with neon orange wrist bands indicating they couldn't drink. What kind of bar let in underage kids? Well, they were eighteen and up, at any rate. Must be what Kid was going on about because the beer tasted like warm piss.

Kevin's eyes roamed the area. His gaze shifted to the far corner across the way. He recognized the Hardy brothers and some of their crew. He laughed caustically to himself. Of course, they would frequent a place like this. He took in the sight of two unfamiliar females. Fangirls or rats obviously - they were one and the same really.

His eyes zeroed in on the pair, narrowing once he got a clear view. No fucking way those two ankle-biters were old enough to be there. Who the hell were they trying to fool? He wasn't sure why he even cared. Perhaps, he was damn tired of having to look at them everywhere he went.

Unintentionally, he growled low in his throat.

"Ya alright, big man?" Scott questioned his friend.

"Guess this place really is for kids." He nodded in direction of the young sisters.

Scott followed his gaze to the table in the far-left corner. His eyes immediately fell on that rebellious blonde. Painted dark red, her lips were stretched in a Cheshire grin as she laughed at a statement made by one of her companions. For whatever reason, he enjoyed seeing the smile on her face versus that permanent scowl. It was apparent she was enjoying herself too. It had to be a relief to get out instead of being cooped up in the hotel.

Reves felt a pair of eyes on her and searched the room for their owner, who turned out to be none other than The Bad Guy. Her bright blue orbs locked onto his deep browns from across the room. She willed her heart to stop racing as she tried to maintain her impenetrable demeanor, both before him and in the presence of her friends. He grinned back at her and she sucked in a sharp breath as she nervously toyed with a lock of her cascading tendrils. She broke the gaze as the blush spread across her cheeks, causing her to curse at herself.

Kevin looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow. "You ok, there buddy?" he asked Scott.

The goofy grin faded from Scott's face. "Yeah Chico," he replied, but Kevin was scarcely paying any mind once he noticed Matt and Jeff heading up to the bar.

Kevin got up from the table and sauntered over towards where Matt and Jeff were standing, waiting for the bartender to deliver their drinks. He approached them from behind and slapped them both on the back. "Well, hey boys! How the hell are ya?" His hands came up, clenching the back of their necks.

With an air of aggravation, they glanced behind them. "Oh. Hey Nash." Jeff paused, looking past Kevin, "What's up, Hall?" he said to Scott who was now standing beside Kevin.

"Can we help you?" Matt asked, his fist clenched. He had half a mind to turn around and clock Nash in his face, but he wasn't in the mood for a fight let alone getting his ass kicked. Though he knew if it came to a brawl Adam and Jay would have their backs.

"Now what do you think Mark would do if he knew you had his precious daughters hanging out in bars?" Scott asked, in a contrite voice.

"I don't know. Are you going to be tattle tails now, just like you're bullies, apparently?" a voice interjected before either Hardy could answer. Reves stood leaning against the bar. Her eyes came directly to meet Scott again.

"Ah, Chica now we didn't mean any harm. Did we Big Kev?" Scott asked as Kevin released Matt and Jeff.

Reves felt a shiver involuntarily streak down her spine when he called her that. It was bad enough that being in such proximity to him put her body on edge.

"Wow really? We know we're a couple of scumbag assholes, but even we wouldn't bring a couple of underaged kids to the bar and let them drink," Kevin said defensively.

"Um, hello," Reves held up the arm that bared the orange band and twisted her wrist for emphasis.

"We ain't letting 'em drink!" Jeff replied, incredulously.

"We just wanted to let them get out to their room," Matt added.

Suddenly Reves let out a squeal that sounded positively alien coming from her as she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. She smiled and faced the small platform that made up the makeshift stage toward the back of the club. "She's gonna do it!" Reves cheered.

All four men followed her gaze and their eyes fell upon Heather's petite form.

She stood awkwardly, her arms down at her side, fists curled into nervous balls. She stared out with that apprehensive "deer in the headlights" expression in her eyes. People in the vicinity continued to chatter, paying no mind to the pixie-like creature as she cautiously approached the microphone stand and closed her eyes.

"Hmph," Kevin shook his head. That poor girl was going to make an absolute fool of herself up there and her so-called _friends_ were going to stand and watch. Call it pity, but he didn't want to stick around to witness her inflict such embarrassment on herself. He tapped Scott's arm and canted his head toward the door.

As the two were making their way to the exit the opening riff of Bush's grunge hit "Glycerin" pervaded the club.

Heather, eyes still closed, swayed her hips slowly with her feet planted firmly in place. Her head bobbed to the sound of the distorted guitars. This was one of her favorite songs, therefore, she had no use for the prompter. She kept her eyes closed to block the sight of the people and focused on the music over their chatter. She took a deep breath and began to sing, making certain to project her voice.

By the time Heather began the first verse, Hall and Nash were nearly at the doors. This took Kevin by utter surprise as he found himself stopped in his tracks. He was nowhere near prepared for the ethereal voice that carried out over the din. Her voice had a quality that was innocent and angelic but marked with sadness. He turned to her with fascination as her body slowly met every note.

By the second verse, her striking green eyes opened cautiously, taking in the collection of people. Some of them were now focusing their attention on the petite girl, others continued on, oblivious. Heather's eyes roamed the room finding her sister and her friends. They looked on approvingly. It gave her a certain type of courage and peace. She had had an immense amount of apprehension and fear about getting up on stage after what had happened at school. Yet, the melody and the emotions took her over. Maybe she was getting better after all, or at least better at swallowing it down.

"We going, big guy?" Scott asked Kevin as he stood behind him.

"Yeah, in a minute." He didn't turn to look at Scott but began moving further into the room. He wasn't sure if he was more intrigued by the angelic voice or the fact that she was up there at all, singing with such passion.

He stood and watched her with attentive curiosity. The way she gripped the microphone stand as her body responded to every note. He had to admit he was a little shocked. The kid actually had talent and a lot of potential.

Her eyes closed again as the breakdown of strings entered the fold during the bridge. When her eyes opened again, they shifted across the room and were caught by his piercing gaze. As their eyes locked onto one another's, her heart thumped against her chest and she jumped inside her skin but didn't falter in her performance. She continued to sing her passionate lamentation as the heat crawled to her cheeks, rendering a crimson mantle across her visage.

Feeling overwhelmed by his studying gaze, she finally looked away while the song was drawing to a close. As the music faded out, she let go of the stand. Her stance became awkward again and the shrinking violet began to reemerge. It was as if she was in a trance while singing and the spell was wearing off.

Her entourage erupted into a frenzy of cheers, whistles, and clapping. A handful of the other patrons did the same. Kevin clapped for her as well, the corners of his mouth tugging into a grin. Heather smiled weakly and stepped off the stage.

"Woah, pretty good," Scott commented, now standing at his side.

"Not bad," Kevin shrugged.

They watched her approach the group as her sister embraced her. "You did it you, dweeb!" she teased affectionately.

Heather rolled her eyes but grinned shyly as she pushed her glasses up on her nose.

That bashful smile worked inside Kevin. She was strangely beautiful with her elated expression and the kid should have been proud of her performance. He wanted to congratulate the kid but decided it was best not to after the scene with the Hardys.

"Alright, it's my turn!" Reves announced throwing her hands in the air.

Scott and Kevin looked at each other, curious as to what song she would choose and if she sounded anything like her sister.

Reves took the platform with an air of confidence. She seemed to make her presence known and command attention without speaking. After a moment of waiting, she said into the mic, "Hit the damn music. Jeez, guys!"

Reves sang "Rebel Yell" by Billy Idol.

Heather's voice was ethereal and haunting, whereas Reves had a voice that was like a powerhouse with a bluesy tone. She harkened to the vibe of women like Joan Jet and Lita Ford.

She was good at playing to the crowd, pumping her fist and headbanging. Every now and then, she looked directly at Scott as she belted the rock anthem.

Scott watched her up on stage as she moved like she owned the damn thing. Her voice was phenomenal and she certainly was a looker in her short skirt and leather jacket.

As she finished her song, over half the bar erupted into cheers. Some even gave a standing ovation. Reves grinned widely as she took a bow, her cascading blonde hair sweeping forward and flying back when she stood. She left the stage and rejoined her friends.

Heather hugged her sister in return. "So good," she murmured with a smile.

"That was awesome," Jason said.

"I guess you could say it reeks of awesomeness!" Adam quipped and they high-fived just like their characters used to do.

Reves rolled her eyes, but smirked, "Spare me." She looked around the semi-circle everyone had formed. "So, who's next?"

"Where'd you kids get the pipes?" a smooth voice asked before anyone could say more.

Everyone turned to the left to see Hall and Nash, now standing beside them. The voice belonged to Scott.

Heather's eyes widened while everyone else seemed mildly annoyed.

"I thought you were leaving," Reves snipped folding her arms over her chest.

"Damn, you can't take a compliment, can you?" Kevin barked back.

Her devil may care expression waved momentarily. They like their singing? Damn her heart shouldn't be beating like this; she shouldn't be having the blood rushing through her veins. Saving herself, she retorted her defense, "Well, you laughed at us when we said we were recording a song. What now?"

"Still haven't heard that one," Amy grumbled.

"That doesn't matter right now," Reves responded to her friend's teasing.

"Alright. They were trying to be nice," Trish put a hand on Reves's arm.

As the conversation went on, Kevin watched the little one with the black hair standing there squeamishly, her hands behind her back. She looked completely out of her element here. (Never mind the fact that she certainly was. Yet, her big sis seemed to be playing the role with ease). This whole time, the only moments where she didn't look like a frightened cat were when she was up there singing. Even now, staring at the floor she inched back from the group.

"Ok guys, who is going next?" Reves demanded again, returning to ignoring the two outsiders.

"What do you say Ams, you want to give it a go?" Trish asked as she nudged Amy's arm.

"Yeah, why not?" Amy smiled.

After taking a turn, they all pushed the sisters back on stage.

"But we've already done a song," Heather protested.

"Yes, but everyone loved you two," Trish told her. "Besides, this is about you guys having fun for once."

Heather was certain whether that was so. They had already made plans to come out. They merely invited her and her sister to tag along. Heather didn't mention it, however.

Reves was tugging on her sister's arm. "What should we sing?" she questioned.

"Ohhh, _Africa_ , by Toto," Heather smiled shyly.

Reves narrowed her eyes. "You know I don't know that song."

"That's why there's a prompt-"

"Nope. Sorry, I l don't think so."

Heather sighed.

" _Like a Virgin_ ," Reves grinned wickedly.

"Eww, no way!" Heather's face flared and she glanced around quickly, wondering if anyone had heard them.

Reves cut her eyes towards Heather. "What do you say to _Reaper_?"

"Yes, that would do fine," Heather agreed.

"Alright, cue the cowbell," Reves stepped to the microphone and spoke.

The two girls took turns, making it into a duet they must have put a little work into at some point.

Heather seemed to be a little more confident when she was sharing the stage with her sister. Their voices were an interesting dynamic and they actually complemented one another quite well.

When they returned to their friends, they realized that Scott Hall and Kevin Nash were still there as they approached them.

"I'm kind of surprised you know that song," Scott said.

"Why?" Reves narrowed her eyes.

"Well, it is super fucking edgy," Kevin nudged Scott.

Reves glared at him.

"Aww, I love the mushy parts. Especially about Romeo and the broad," Scott teased.

"Actually, Romeo was an arrogant narcissist whose devotions were fleeting and fickle, at best. And poor Juliet by the way was naive and too trusting. The attraction to one another was both toxic and volatile. Conclusively, Romeo and Juliet is a tale of how everyone needs to – for lack a proper term – chill out." It was Heather that had spoken up until she realized everyone was staring at her.

Kevin's eyes were trained on her, "Is that so?" he asked.

"Well, y-yes," Heather's eyes were downcast and her voice shook.

"No one cares, dork," Reves teased her.

Matt looked at his watch. "Shit, we better get you two back," she said to the teenagers.

They bid goodbye to the men known as the Outsiders and left.

When they returned to the hotel, they had scarcely been in the room five minutes before they heard the door open, indicating their father was back. Shutting out the light, they scrabbled into bed with their clothes still on and pretended to be sleeping as their father opened the door to check on them.


	8. Chapter 8.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning: Sexual content*

Kevin inserted his key into the front door with a sigh of relief. Finally, a couple days off. It's not like he was a stranger to working (contrary to popular belief), but going from sitting on your ass for a year to running around twenty-plus days a month was leaving his body in physical shock. Of course, Vince was going to work him like a bitch, along with Scotty and Hogan too. That's what Vince did; he hooked you with a deal, then came all the fine print.

"Ten days a month my ass," he muttered to himself as he pushed open the door, dragging his suitcase behind him. He closed the door and left his luggage in the front hall. Then he suddenly remembered how full the mailbox looked. Fuck it. He'd get it later.

He headed for the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was bare aside from some condiment bottles, a few containers of Chinese he forgot to throw out before he left for the last run, and a six-pack of beer. He grabbed one of the cans and cracked it open, taking a long swig. Entering the living room, he noticed the answering machine blinking. It was Scotty making sure he got in alright. At least someone gave a damn.

He grabbed the cordless handset off the dock and dialed up his best friend. They didn't stay on the phone long. They just like to check on each other as he and his friends did, especially with Scott and he both being divorced.

After hanging up with Scott, he noticed the deafening silence closing in around him. He had been divorced nearly two years now. In that time, he had gotten used to being alone when he came home. That was when he sat home for a year. Coming back on the road and then coming back to an empty house made it feel like it was happening all over again.

She said she couldn't handle it anymore. She couldn't stay in a marriage where he was only present part of the time. Not to mention, he had had multiple affairs. Yes, he was a real scumbag piece of shit. He had never meant for anything like that to happen.

There was a lot he didn't think would happen before getting into professional wrestling. Still, he did it all and then some. It was a shark tank and it was kill or be killed. As fun and awesome as it was at times, it was miserable and depressing at others. Despite everything, he thanked God every day for his brothers, the KLIQ.

Kevin grabbed the remote and turned on the television, the room filling with voices that provided a little comfort. He walked over to the sliding glass door, looking out at the ocean as his backyard. He had always wanted to live on the beach, but he had no one to share it with now.

He had been living in Scottsdale, Arizona while he was married. After the divorce, he moved to Florida. He was renting an apartment a few miles from where Scott lived in Tampa for five months or so. He then decided that he liked the Daytona area better and bought a small house on the opposite coast. It was only a two-bedroom, well because he didn't need anything else. Just a spare room for when his buddies came to visit.

He took another swallow of her beer and watched the tide coming in. All these guys buying eight-bedroom mansions were jackasses. People liked to shit on him because he knew how to get his money. Well, he wasn't going to squander it on useless shit either. He wasn't stupid. He knew he couldn't do this forever and was going to have to have something to live off of. He was doing everything to secure the future, their future. But that was over now.

He finished his beer and tossed the can in the trash. He wasn't sure where this sudden wave of depression came from, but he had a feeling he might need to run out for more beer.

* * *

It was the last week before Wrestlemania. Everything would get more stressful and a little hectic in the days to come. There was so much planning and preparation to pull off the biggest show in sports entertainment. Wrestlemania was the wrestling equivalent to the NFL's Superbowl and if anyone asked the Calaway sisters, they would say it was much more entertaining.

Speaking of the pair, their father was on the hunt for them. He was in somewhat of a foul disposition as he had told those girls for the umpteenth time not to leave the dressing room. Their school work was coming due and they hadn't submitted anything in over two weeks.

Mark entered catering and scanned the area. He didn't see them.

"Hey Mark, everything ok?" It was Lisa Moretti otherwise known as Ivory. She and Jaqueline had helped train Sara when she had her stint on TV.

"Looking for the girls," he said in an aggravated voice.

Lisa simply laughed. "I'm surprised those girls haven't' driven you completely insane by now."

"No, believe me. I'm there," Mark replied and he couldn't help but give a little chuckle.

"I'll keep an eye out for them," Lisa said before they parted ways.

"Yo Mark," Scott Hall had called him from across the room. "I think I saw two little shrimps down there, running the ropes," he said as the infamous trio comprised of Nash, Hogan, and himself approached him.

Mark released an agitated growl. Of all things, he continuously expressed that the damn ring was without a doubt off-limits. "It figures," he spat. "Those girls believe they are destined for greatness. But right now, the only things they are destined for is an essay and some calculus work. I'll check down there," he said and headed off.

"Are we tattle tails now?" Kevin asked his friend with an air of amusement.

"That blonde one is too cocky. She could stand to be taken down a peg or two." Scott smirked. Truthfully, there was something about her blunt confidence that caught his attention, though he couldn't admit it.

* * *

When Mark found the girls, they received a massive scolding and rough lecturing. "I want this done tonight so I can send it off tomorrow," Mark commanded. "I'll be back after I get done with the meeting," he said as he headed towards the door. He stopped and turned. "Get it done. I mean it!" He was speaking mostly to Reves, but Heather was not going to take his word lightly. He left his daughters in his dressing room to complete their work.

As soon as Mark was gone, Heather sat down cross-legged on the floor in from of the coffee table. She grabbed her bag and began taking out her materials. "How is your essay coming?" she asked her sister, knowing she hadn't even begun to work on it.

"Fine," Reves replied in a snarky tone, crinkling her nose. She didn't have any plans to write an essay for her brain-dead college professor. The subject matter was stupid and pointless. She knew the "Prince of Darkness" would be holding court for quite some time. There was something she was after and she was tired of waiting. If Daddy could play games and keep secrets, so could she.

"What's the topic, again?" Heather asked, pulling her from her train of thought.

Reves huffed. "It's on how I think technology will shape our relationships in the future. How the fuck should I know. Maybe, he should go watch the Jetsons or something."

Heather giggled a little. Her sister was always getting unnecessarily riled. She opened her workbook with a contented sigh. She loved school, or rather she loved learning. It was usually calming and gave her a sense of accomplishment. Of course, she maintained a 4.0 GPA.

"Where are you going?" Heather asked in an anxious voice.

"I don't know. I might just gain more experience for my essay," Reves said cryptically with a sly grin.

"Rev, seriously. Do you really think it's a good idea to upset Daddy after the tongue lashing, we just received? He'll be livid!" The fear was creeping into her voice as she came to a standing position.

Reves rolled her eyes, hard. "Oh, please. It's not like you'll be in trouble," she scoffed. "Just go crunch your numbers, little goody-two-shoes dork." She waved her sister away.

Heather exhaled sharply. She was always mild mannered and even tempered, but she didn't always take kindly to her sister's mocking. She sat back down with the knowledge that she had been defeated. Again.

As her sister skipped to the door, Heather called her name in one last attempt. When Reves turned towards her with narrowed eyes, she received confirmation that her pleading was futile. She looked down at her work, her shoulders sagging. She hoped her sister couldn't get herself entangled in any sort of calamity.

Reves was making her way cautiously through the corridors. She wasn't exactly sure where the wrestler's court was being held and she certainly wouldn't be thrilled if she got busted wondering around.

* * *

"Where's Terry?" Kevin had asked Scott as he came out of the bathroom.

Scott looked over at his friend and shrugged his shoulder. Hulk wasn't one to always hang with the boys, but he somehow seemed more aloof since returning to WWE.

"I'm fucking parched. You want something to drink, brother?" Kevin then feigned a glare. "It's too early for boozes."

"You're one to talk," Scott chuckled as he raised his middle finger. "Nah, man. I'm good."

"Alright then. I'll be right back," Kev said walking towards the door.

Reves had arrived at the destination she sought. As she approached, she heard the door opening. She stole around the corner nearby. Plastering herself against the wall, she watched the nearly seven-foot-tall, Kevin Nash pass by unknowingly.

Good. He was gone. For how long? And was that geezer, Hogan still around? Checking down the hall, there were no longer any signs of Nash. She emerged from around the corner and approached the door with a sign boasting the nWo logo. She prayed he was alone in there, otherwise, this would be extremely awkward. She knew somehow, he was the one who told Mark about them playing around down in the ring. She was going to make him understand he was better off holding his tongue.

She ran a hand through her flowing platinum hair. She looked at her shaking hand. Why was she doing that? She shouldn't be nervous. At least that is what she told herself, despite the fact that she had every reason to be.

Reves raised a trembling hand and rapped on the door with her knuckles. She momentarily thought she should forget this business, but she willed herself to stay and smoothed her clothes. She waited a minute or so with no answer. Maybe he wasn't there either she thought to herself ash she knocked again. She quickly raised her arm and rested it on the door frame and leaning against it as the door quickly swung open.

Her heart skipped a beat and a shiver ran down her spine as her eyes fell upon him in his tight jeans and fitted shirt. His hair was down, falling at his shoulders. She grinned coyly as she felt her body tingle. Looking at him, she forgot all her nerves.

Scott stared at her quizzically for a few moments. "Can I help you?" he asked. Fuck, why was she looking at him like that?

Without uttering a word, she walked past him right into the room, looking back at him over her shoulder. She stopped in the center of the room and turned towards him with her hands on her hips. "I sure hope you can help me," she said, "but I know I can certainly help you."

There was a gleam in her eyes that was all too familiar, he just couldn't bring himself to say what it was. Despite his better judgment, he let the door fall shut behind him. He approached her and for some reason, he felt his body go on edge. Standing mere inches away, he looked at her and smirked. "And just how do you think you're going to help me, little lady?"

Pushing her hands against the firm muscle of his chest, she shoved him down onto the black leather couch and quickly straddled his lap. She leaned in close to his ear and spoke in a low and husky tone, "I'm gonna be your Bad Girl."

A shock ran through Scott's body like electricity as her words assaulted his ear. The sensation traveled down to his groin, causing his cock to lurch against the gentle pressure of her body across his lap. She shuddered in response and before he could say a word, her lips came crashing down over his.

Scott was stunned. Throughout his professional career, he had had countless women approach him wanting to hook up, but never had he met anyone this bold. This shouldn't have come as a surprise to him by the way she looked at him, her smug attitude, but it did. At first, he was too taken back to respond, but he soon realized how amazing be kissed by her felt.

Reves's heart thudded against her chest when he returned her kiss. His arm came around her, hand pressing against her back and pushing her body against him. She shivered as his rough facial hair scraped against her soft skin.

Their lips crashed together feverishly, slipping away into each other. Tongues met one another's, battling for dominance

Scott was fully hard now, his cock straining against his tight jeans. He was on the verge of exploding already. He had been with women both older and younger. The younger ones, though smoking hot and all too eager to please, had little experience. Where the hell had she learned to make out like this?

Suddenly Scott realized: this girl was Mark Calaway's daughter! He was the patriarch of the WWE locker room. No one would dare disrespect him in such a manner. It would almost be the equivalent of walking straight up to Vince McMahon and literally spitting in his face.

"Hey," he said, trying to break away. "How old are you anyway?" he asked in between her onslaught.

Reves didn't miss a beat. Quickly she pulled her lips away from his mouth, lining his rugged jaw with kisses. "Nineteen," she panted with a sultry tone.

Scott struggled to think clearly. This girl was fucking hot and hell, she was legal. But she was also Mark's daughter, fucking Undertaker! He never had a fear of Mark under normal circumstances, but he was definitely the type to kill for his kids.

As these thoughts were swimming in his head, Scott was vaguely aware of the girl's nimble fingers unbuckling his belt. She caressed the bulge that was threatening to split the seam of his jeans before undoing the button and pulling on his zipper, offering him a little relief.

Moving off his to his right side, she slipped her hand into his pants and wrapped her palm around his throbbing member. Her hand glided back and forth over the smooth skin causing him to release a low groan.

She bit her lip. Damn, he felt big. The thought made her shudder with desire. She pulled him out and her eyes fell upon the engorged erection within her hands. She noticed the tip glistening as she rubbed her thumb gently across the head.

Scot groaned. He was trying to fight this. Fuck was he trying! At least that is what he was telling himself. He exhaled sharply. "Look, maybe this isn't such a good idea," he said shakily as he tried to move her hand away.

Reves's blue orbs locked onto his deep brown ones. "If you're going to tell on me to my old man, you may as well tell him something worth hearing," she said with a seductive smile.

"Holy shit," Scott whispered hoarsely as her slick, warm mouth came down over him and completely engulfed his rock-hard member.


	9. Chapter 9.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Bullying and suicide discussed.

Kevin was making his way back to the nWo locker room when a faint melody caught his attention. Concentrating on the noise, he strained his ears to hear the music. What song was this? He felt like he had heard it years, possibly even decades ago. Moving further down the hall, the music was getting louder, though it wasn't blaring. Following the sound, he arrived outside of Mark's locker room. The music was coming from inside and he was sure it was the sisters who were listening to it. It didn't sound like Mark's type of stuff.

Then he heard an unexpected, anguished cry from the other side of the door. He stopped to listen. Next came a frustrated groan. What was that? Where they ok in there?

Against his better judgment, he knocked on the door. He wasn't sure if Mark was in there or not. He knew it was really none of his business, but he wanted to make sure they weren't hurt or in pain. He briefly wondered why he cared, but it was truthfully part of his nature. He had earned a reputation as a heartless asshole over the years, but he genuinely cared about people's welfare. It was when people made the mistake of fucking with his buddies that the ogre came out in him.

The knock on the door caused Heather to jump, making her heart race. Who was that? Her father wouldn't knock. Neither would Rev. That meant it was likely someone inquiring after her father. Her shoulders sagged. She let out an anxious sigh, followed by a frown. She came to the conclusion that she would be the one to answer the door.

Reves was always the one to answer the door when their father was away. He wasn't particularly pleased with that, but sometimes people had important messages to deliver to him.

She kept still a few moments. Maybe they would come back later. Then the knocking came once more. She lowered her head and sighed. She knew if anyone had witnessed her at that moment, they would deduce that she was completely pathetic. She slowly rose and began making her way to the door.

Heather prayed silently it was not Mr. McMahon. He terrified her with his imposing stance and booming voice. Placing her hand on the doorknob, she hesitated a moment, then scolded herself for being so ridiculous.

She turned the doorknob, then cautiously opened the door a few feet. "Y-yes?" she asked in her timid voice. She looked up at the face of the seven-footer, Kevin Nash. Her face flushed a deep crimson upon the sight of him.

Kevin was surprised the little sister was answering the door. He noticed right away the bright glow that always seemed to stain her cheeks. Her large, wide eyes were staring up at him with curiosity.

When his eyes connected to hers, her gaze became downcast. "My father isn't here right now," she muttered.

"Where is he?" Kev wasn't looking for Mark, but since she mentioned it, he figured he would ask.

Her gaze flickered upward, briefly. "The Lord of Darkness is holding court." She had always enjoyed the sound of that, but once she had said it out loud, she silently reprimanded herself for uttering something so idiotic.

Kevin had thought he had seen a vague smile tugging at the corners for her mouth, but it disappeared quick as a flash. Nodding, he stayed silent for a moment. "It sounded like someone was hurt. You kids ok in there?"

Her mantle deepened. She did not realize she had made such a commotion. She had acted quite dramatic had she not? "It's just me, I'm afraid. And yes, I am quite alright. Merely frustrated," she admitted.

"What's the matter?" He wasn't sure why he was curious, but he was.

"Oh, it's just some bothersome Calculus work," Heather replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. She had to say, she was a bit taken back at his inquiry.

"Maybe I can help you," he said, much to her surprise and to his a well.

"You know Calculus?" she questioned in amazement, pushing the black frames upon her face.

He somehow found her action the be very endearing, though he hadn't the slightest hint as to why. "I did. About a thousand years ago," he joked.

Without conscience contemplation, Heather opened the door wider and Kevin walked in. He saw the books and papers sitting on the coffee table at the center of the room.

Heather returned to where she was seated previously on the floor, while Kevin sat down on the plush leather couch. He took hold of the paper she seemed to be working on. "Woah," Kev exhaled sharply and shook his head. He had worked with these formulas, but that was way back in college before this girl was probably even alive.

His eyes scanned the paper for the last problem she was struggling with. He took a look at her workbook. Even though this was years past him, he noticed her issue right away. He placed the paperback on the table in front of her. "You have the two and the five mixed up here," he pointed out to her gently.

Heather's jaw fell open as if it had suddenly come unhinged. Her eyes darted back and forth between her workbook and the paper. The color in her face erupted like lava. She lamented, "Transposed numbers? You have got to be kidding me!" She had been having a rough time concentrating. She was too worried about Rev.

Heather dropped her head, face-first on the table. "Ouch," she winced. When she raised her head, the paper had clung over her face. She tore it way, positive she looked like an absolute imbecile.

Kevin chuckled. He had to admit, there was something about this little girl's dorkiness that somehow made her surprisingly charming.

Heather looked away, wringing her hands nervously. She recognized that laugh. It was that pitiful _you poor idiotic loser_ laugh. She had received it from peers at school as well as her father's co-workers. "T-thank you. I am really striving to graduate early, by the end of the school year, so my coursework is doubled." she forced herself to speak despite her feelings of disparagement.

"No problem," Kevin replied. That sounds like a substantial load, he thought. He noticed a stack of textbooks and other workbooks sitting at the other end of the table. A top of the pile sat a novel. Kevin's curiosity as to what tale she was devouring now bested him and he picked it up.

The cover was adorned with the image of a young girl. She had a lollipop to her lips, eyes peering out coyly over heart-shaped sunglasses. "Lolita?" he read aloud. "Your old man lets you read this garbage?" he asked incredulously.

Heather's eyes protruded from her head as she snatched the lecherous tome from him. She concealed it under a stack of papers, resting her arm on top. "It's on assignment," she whispered. "I have to write a thesis on why Humbert is an unreliable narrator."

Kevin only nodded. He had never read the book, but he had seen bits and pieces of the Jeremy Irons film. Heavy stuff, to say the least.

With her arm still over the pile, Kevin's eyes were then drawn to the inside of Heather's wrist, more specifically the egregious scar that ran approximately two inches in length down the center. "What is that?" he questioned without hesitation.

Coming to the realization of his inquiry, Heather instantly pulled her arm down into her lap and covered the scar with her hand as if she could erase the sight of it.

She didn't meet his eyes, but he watched them cloud over with a harrowing pain. It pervaded the atmosphere of the room, covering it with an unmistakable blanket of sorrow. Her mind seemed to be recalling some distant memory that she was struggling to keep buried and Kevin almost instantly regretted asking.

To his surprise, she spoke after a few moments, though she didn't look at him. "It's why I'm here," she said in an even but lifeless tone.

"I don't understand what you mean," Kevin told her in confusion.

She expelled a heavy sigh. "Well, about six months ago," she paused. "I, I tr-tried to, to kill myself," She choked out.

Heather's eyes started to well with tears and she lowered her head. "There was this girl, a group of girls, actually. They had bullied me for the longest time. Though this one, in particular, was the puppet master, the other's were her acolytes." She stopped a moment.

There were very few times in his life that Kevin Nash was ever rendered speechless. This was one of those times. He only stared at the top of her hanging head, her long ebony tendrils creating a veil over her face. What kind of savage assholes would bully this tiny, bashful creature?

"The irony of it is that girl, the leader, was once my closest friend. We met the first day of Kindergarten and we were nearly inseparable. But after she spent the summer before sixth grade in California with her aunt, she was only obsessed with boys and fashion. Myself, I was into music and books, much like today," she said sounding embarrassed. "She started hanging out with a different group. At first, she would ditch me for these other girls. But then it turned into name-calling and taunting and if you asked Brittany, she would tell you we had never been friends."

"One day after P.E. class," she breathed out deeply and kept her head inclined. "I was ch-changing in a bathroom stall. When I came out, they all surrounded me," her voice was cracking. "They, they t-tore all my, my…clothes off. Then they shoved me completely n-naked, into the boys' locker room where the JV team was getting ready for practice. It was mortifying and terrifying. The terrible things those boys said."

When she raised her head her usually shining emerald eyes looked completely dead. Although her voice relayed her distress, her face was a mask, devoid of emotion. "I knew I couldn't show my face in school again, so when I got home that day, I resolved to end my misery. This was during that whole DDP stalker angle when my mother was traveling with my father a lot."

Heather was twirling a loose thread at the hem of her shirt casually between her fingers as she spoke. "They weren't due home for a couple of days. I deduced that I would belong expired by then, but it would seem Mr. McMahon had given them some extra time off," she shrugged. "I had forgotten to lock the door and my mother can in and found me in the bathtub, right as I had just…" Her voice trailed off, but there was no need to finish. The images were painted all too vividly.

She had no explanation as to why she was telling him all of this. He was just going to think she was some sort of cutter freak.

"Anyway, they withdrew me from school, and here Reves and I are," she said as she tugged on the thread that was twisted around her finger and it snapped.

So that explained her somber demeanor, the melancholy expression behind her striking eyes. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," Kevin said, his timbre low and gentle.

"Why?" she asked in bewilderment. Her eyes met his once again, though her brows were furrowed as she was on the defense. She noted the flecks of golden brown in his eyes before she said, "It's not like you did anything."

Heather quickly dropped her head, stunned by the tone in which she had spoken.

"No one should be made to feel so low they want to take their own life," he said sympathetically.

To Heather, his words sounded more like pity. "Perhaps for some." She was silent a moment. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly normal."

Next, Heather was so stunned by the booming laughter that was expelled by the behemoth, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Perplexed, she stared at him with her large doe eyes. She hadn't the slightest comprehension as to what was so comical about her statement.

"Sweetheart, who the fuck is normal?" he asked, holding her gaze. "Take me, for example, I was over six feet tall by the time I was twelve years old. There are not many people who can make that claim."

Her face flared up again and Kevin swore he saw the hint of a smile as she bit her lip. Yes, but there were not many people who were going to bully him. Not unless their brain cell count was only in the single digits.

Heather was now twisting the ends of one of the long tendrils that fell over her shoulder, creating a spiral of black and violet. "M-may I say something? If It's not too forward, that is." She briefly glanced up at him, then back down to the coil of hair between her slender fingers.

"Sure, kid. Shoot," he said, leaning forward slightly.

"I hope this will not present itself as indignant, but you seem to have a lot of time on your hands compared to my father," she said, then wished immediately, that she could retract her statement.

Kevin smirked and rubbed the goatee on his chin. "Well, let's just say we aren't the most popular guys in the locker room. Not like Mark, who everyone respects. Not to mention, I try to keep my obligations as low as fucking possible," he chuckled.

Heather's lips tugged into a small grin and she repositioned her glasses which had slipped down her pert nose again. "Thank you for helping me, Mr. Nash," she squeaked as she straightened a few papers.

Although she was mum on the matter, Kevin was sure she was thanking him for more than locating her mathematical error. He felt for this kid. She was sweet, certainly a little naive. That coupled with her tiny stature, without a doubt made her an easy target. It wasn't any surprise why Mark was so protective of his girls and of her especially.

Kevin smirked at the docile creature. "You're welcome. And by the way, it's Kev, remember?"

"Oh, um, ok. Thanks…" she paused briefly, mustering the straight to utter his first name. "K-kev." She winced as if she had been slapped. There were very few people she was on a first-name basis with, aside from the Hardys and Amy.

She wasn't meeting his gaze until he spoke after a few moments. "Well, I'll let you get back to it. Good luck, kid," he said as he stood.

Heather craned her neck to peer up at the giant, now towering over her. Although she was used to being in the company of gargantuan athletes and despite the fact that Kevin and her father were approximately the same height, she still found it imposing to be in such close proximity to such a behemoth.

"Th-thank you," she muttered again as he let himself out of the room.

Thinking on their conversation, Kevin was wonder-struck that she had shared such an intimate and harrowing aspect of her life. He wasn't sure what had persuaded her to do so, but he was glad he understood some of the sorrow behind those striking emerald eyes. Still, there was yet something else there. His heart went out to the kid when she mentioned Mark and how much time he spent working. He couldn't shake the notion that she felt quite a lot of disconnect despite traveling with him all the time.

As Kevin rounded the corner a mass of blonde hair collided into his chest. The figure stumbled backward. Those piercing blue belonging to Reves Calaway shot up towards him. Her hair along with the rest of her appearance was disheveled.

"Oh. Sorry dude," she offered hastily as she rushed off. It was evident she was racing back to Mark's dressing room before he returned.

Kevin shook his head. Where had she been and what had she been doing to cause her to look like such a mess?


	10. Chapter 10.

WrestleMania weekend had finally arrived! It was a Friday morning and the sisters were in their rooms going through last minute checklists before heading out for this run.

Everything seemed to be in order. Heather made certain that she was bringing along quite a few good books for the lulls. She laid them over her clothes and packed them down carefully before zipping her suitcase. She knew her father would be far too busy this weekend and he wouldn't want to stop at any bookstores or shops in order for her to pick up new materials.

Her copy of Vladimir Nabokov's controversial novel sat on her bed amid a host of other stories she had already consumed. She went to return the books to the shelf. She stopped and stared at the cover, blushing as she thought of the contents of its pages. Truth is, if Mark knew Simon, her tutor, had tasked her with reading and analyzing such a diabolical tale, he would have had the man six feet under, no kayfabe required. That was the drawback of having the reading level of a senior in college, she supposed.

Placing the rest of the books on the shelf she unzipped her suitcase and slipped the book inside. She was still writing her thesis and she would likely need it as a reference.

Her thoughts had wandered to her conversation with Kevin Nash, replaying their words in her head. It was all so surreal. She fixed her eyes on the scar inside her left wrist. Her fingertips traced the raised flesh, remnants of her _healing_. She had yet to discern her reasoning for divulging her attempt to depart from this world. No one had ever really noticed her scar any more than they noticed her. If they had, they would turn a blind eye to it.

When Kevin Nash had inquired, he seemed genuinely concerned, or at least curious. There was a vibe he gave off that seemed like he would understand or at least listen.

Heather reprimanded herself. Her mouth had run away with itself. That was all.

Reves was still stuffing the mesh compartment inside the lid of her suitcase with her revealing undergarments. Daddy had a busy weekend ahead of him and she did as well. If he knew of her plans he would drop dead and never be resurrected. She giggled at the idea. Of course, she didn't really wish any ill will on her father, but his kayfabe character certainly invoked a string of irony in the prospect.

Suddenly, there was a knock on her bedroom door. "Ya almost through packing, girl?" the Texan accent called from the other side.

Speak of the devil, she thought to herself. She went to her closet and quickly yanked a few more articles of clothing from their hangers. "Yep. Zipping up my bag right now. Be down in a minute!" she called back.

To her chagrin, Mark opened the door to find her stuffing clothes into her luggage and cramming her makeup bag on top. He glared at her. "Hustle. We're leaving in about twenty minutes," he warned her before disappearing.

When she finished, Reves entered the hall with her luggage. At the other end, her two brothers, Marcus and Steven emerged from their respective rooms, suitcases in tow. Reves's face twisted into a glower. "Just what are you spores doing?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"We're going downstairs and leaving to go to WrestleMania, dumbass," Steven told her.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Reves grumbled.

"Sure as shit, sweetheart," Marcus replied.

Her brothers smirked at her.

"Ugh!" Reves growled, pushing past them and stomping down the stairs.

Downstairs Heather was waiting with Sara in their foyer. "Mom," Reves started. Then thought better of it.

"What, Sweetie?" Sara questioned.

"Nothing," she answered, trying to keep her voice even.

Sensing her sister's anger, Heather mouthed _"What?"_ with a concerned expression.

Reves didn't respond, but canted her head towards the staircase as her brothers came down with their suitcases.

Heather's visage changed to one of confliction as she lowered her head. Her father had always let her brothers attend WrestleMania events. It was sort of a tradition for them. Still, Heather was under the wishful assumption that they would get to experience the event for themselves for the first time.

Mark entered through the open front door. "Boys, help me pack up the rest of this," he commanded. The twins obeyed their father as they loaded the suitcases into the truck bed. Sara and the girls had moved out onto the front porch and were watching them.

As they finished up securing everything down, a white BMW pulled up to the house. Out stepped a pair of tall, identical brunettes and they approached the brothers. Hannah and Julie. The two girls were also a set of twins. Hannah was Marcus's girlfriend. Likewise, Julie was dating Steven.

As soon as Reves saw them, she scoffed and threw her arms across her chest. She had little patience for these twits.

Heather turned her head away. Their presence made her feel apprehensive. They were not part of the acolytes who continually tortured her, but they ran in the same social circle, therefore, she did not particularly care for them either.

"It really sucks this WrestleMania thing is the same weekend as the dance," Julie whined to Steven.

"Yeah, it's not fair," Hannah added.

"I'm sorry, Babe," Steven replied sympathetically. "You know we always go with our dad. I'll make it up to you. I promise." He touched her chin.

"Yeah, we will," Marcus reassured Hannah as he placed his arm around her, drawing her to his side.

Mark furrowed his brows and growled low in his throat. These little brats got on his nerves, big time. Sara punched him in the arm and scowled up at him. Mark cleared his throat. "We need to be getting on the road here," he told them.

"You know, Brandon is taking Jessica Flynn," Hannah announced, not paying any mind to Mark's words.

Heather's chest locked up at the mention of Jessica. She was one of Brittany's lemmings and didn't mind getting her hands dirty if need be.

"I can't believe Reagan didn't have a fit when she asked Brandon and he said yes!" Julie commented.

Reagan Smith. She was Brittany's best friend and Brandon's ex-girlfriend. As far as the pecking order of the hierarchy, Reagan was Brittany's right-hand woman, whereas Jessica was at the bottom of the food chain. Evidence as to why Jessica didn't mind getting entangled in messy situations to claw her way up the ranks.

Heather was almost positive the onslaught she suffered at the hands of Brittany and her acolytes partially served as a type of initiation for Jessica, who previously hadn't been given the time of day.

The memories swimming back, Heather was vaguely aware of Reves taking hold of her hand. She could sense the angry energy surging through her sister as she gripped her hand.

"I'll be waiting in the truck," Reves stated, struggling to keep an even tone in her voice. She pulled Heather along with her as she stomped towards the truck. "Dumbasses," Reves huffed under her breath as she opened the door of the truck

"Boys, I'm pulling out in three minutes," Mark warned in an austere voice and headed towards the driver's side door. "Nice seeing you girls." He waved shortly before getting in.

"You girls are welcome to stop by for dinner when we get back," Sara nodded curtly before climbing into the truck.

"Mom," Reves stated with surprise.

"Yeah?" Sara answered looking back at her over her shoulder. "I'm coming along too." She smiled as she buckled her seatbelt.

"Oh wow!" Heather said with unusual enthusiasm, "It's just like a family vacation. We haven't done that for quite some time."

The prospect made her a little forlorn. It _had_ been a long time since the family had been on an outing together. Daddy's schedule never allowed for many, but she was assured this would be beneficial for everyone, even with her irksome brothers.

Reves labored to keep the façade as her smile faltered. "That's great!" she pushed out through her teeth. Inside, she questioned how this would affect her plans. This was a monkey wrench that could cause it to go either way. Mom was usually pretty flexible, but if she put her foot down on something she could be almost as unyielding as their father. Sometimes perhaps more so!

After the melodramatic send-off from their girlfriends, the twins climbed into the truck and the family set out.

Mark and Sara had discussed driving the twenty-three hour road trip to Toronto, as a family bonding experience. They were thankful they had decided against it. Not even ten minutes on the road and the kids were already bickering like toddlers.

It began with Marcus reaching forward and snatching Heather's book from her. "Oh, Romeo. Where are thou, Romeo!" Marcus sing-songed in a high pitched voice, clutching the book to his chest.

"It is the east and Juliet is the sun!" Steven joined in.

Their deep Texan accents blended into a shameful attempt at a British dialect and culminated in a horrid amalgamation as they fell back against the seat in a fit of laughter.

"Give it back to her!" Reves barked as she turned to look back at them.

"Disregarding the fact that you utterly misquoted that entire scene, that is King Lear, I am reading," Heather informed them meekly.

"Who cares? They are all made by that tight-wearin pansy anyway," Steven scoffed.

Heather opened her mouth to respond but thought better of it. She simply shook her head and cast her eyes forward. She questioned how she could have fallen into relation with such ignorance. She would have liked to attribute it to poor breeding, but that would require her to crucify her own parents. Tragically, she did share the same DNA with the Neanderthals seated behind her.

Reves was still unrelenting. She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned fully in her seat. "Give it to her, assholes," she growled and attempted to grab it, but Marcus, who was sitting directly behind her, tossed it to Steven. Reves leaned close to Steven as he passed it back to Marcus.

"Hey!" their father's voice bellowed as he watched to confrontation from the rearview mirror. "All ya knock yer shit off!" He glared back at them.

"Fine," Marcus grumbled and tossed the book forward. It flew and collided with Heather's face as she turned her head, inciting laughter to erupt from the twins once more. The morning sun caught their hair and it flicked like flames as they reared their heads back.

"Boys," Sara warned firmly. They muttered half-hearted apologies as they tried to stifle their laughter. "Are you alright, Sweetie?" Sara asked as Heather adjusted her glasses.

Heather only nodded in response and looked out the window, willing away the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes.

Reves sat down again and buckled up. "Assholes," she uttered candidly, not concerned if her parents heard.

Sure enough, they did, as Mark proceeded to reproach all of them. "Hey! Now, this shit ain't going down like this. Reves Ann, you watch your mouth. And boys, leave your sister alone. I don't want to hear shit until we get to the airport or I swear to God, I'll turn this truck around and you'll all spend the whole weekend in your rooms," Mark warned and they knew it was not just a threat but a promise. Sara gave them a rigid look and nodded her head in agreement. "Now, do we have any misunderstandings?"

"No sir," the four teens grumbled in a relative union.

Arms folded over her chest, Reves looked back and glowered at her two brothers.

Keeping his hand low, so that their parents might not see, Steven cast a middle finger at her.

Reves pursed her lips before mouthing, _"You are so dead!"_

Heather witnessed the exchange in an apprehensive manner. She didn't wish to upset her parents and be sentenced to solitary confinement during the biggest weekend of the year.

Thankfully, the airport was in close proximity and the remainder of the ride went off without a hitch.

The Calaway family unloaded their bags, checked in, and proceeded through security. Mark had issued another astringent talk to the kids about their bickering and what he expected while they waited to board.

He prayed this wasn't a mistake. He usually allowed the boys to come with him over WrestleMania weekend. It was a father/son thing. Yet since the girls had been traveling with him, he couldn't just leave them out. To top it off, Sara had expressed how much she missed traveling with. Admittedly, he had missed her being there too. And so it became a family affair.

Mark only hoped they could all make it through the weekend without getting at each other's throats, especially the kids. He also hoped Sara could see how hard he was trying. They still had a long road to mend. Their time together last fall had helped, but now that she was back home the divide was harder to cross. WWE had been close to offering her a full time contract, but Heather's incident and recovery took precedence.

Sara leaned into her husband, speaking low, "She's watching you again. Don't look so grave," She nudged him playfully.

Mark adjusted himself in his seat, getting more comfortable. He looked at his youngest daughter, sitting across from him. She sat cross-legged in the seat, book in her lap, eyes darting back and forth between the pages and her father's somber visage.

"Girl, you don't need to be concerning yourself with what I'm thinkin' 'bout," he said sternly. He watched her eyes drift down to the page as she licked her lips and placed a death grip on her book, trying to look unobtrusive.

Mark chuckled. A few strong words were all he ever needed to keep that one in line. It was both a blessing and a curse, her docile demeanor. He had no idea those little wenches at school had treated her in the manner that they did. He had always taught his kids to be respectful, but to stand up for themselves. But he figured that concept was lost on all of them in one way or the other.


	11. Chapter 11.

After a three hour flight, the family arrived in Toronto. This year's WrestleMania was truly shaping up to be epic. It was no secret that every year the company tried to outdo themselves, but this year's event was the stuff of dreams with a main event fans could only fathom until now. It was Icon vs. Icon, with the Immortal Hulk Hogan squaring off against the People's Champ, The Rock.

Taker was set into a high-profile match himself, as always, when he would have the Nature Boy, Rick Flair in a no disqualification match. Once again, the crowd and everyone watching at home would be on the edge of their seats wondering if the Deadman's WrestleMania streak would continue yet.

As the family was making their way to the baggage claim, they were stopped by a young couple. "Oh, my God! You're Taker! Like for real! Babe, can you believe it?" the girl squealed, grabbing her boyfriend's arm. "Hey, and Sara too. Can we take a picture with you two?" she questioned eagerly. "That is if you don't mind," she blurted afterward.

Mark looked at Sara who smiled and shrugged. Mark never took issue with taking pictures or signing autographs, but he was a very private person outside the ring. He wanted to be sure Sara was comfortable. It came with the territory of course, but he knew how protective Sara was over the kids.

"Hey, Sara," the boyfriend hesitated a moment before asking, "will you sign my Divas magazine?" He then procured a copy from his messenger bag that hung across his body.

"Sure," Sara grinned, though from the glow on her cheeks, it was apparent she was a little embarrassed.

The Calaway children stood at a considerable distance, watching the scene unfold. They weren't quite sure what to make of the spectacle. They were used to their father being stopped by fans all the time. Their mother was somewhat of a different story. None of them even cared to entertain the fact that their own mother appeared in the magazine in alluring bikini shots.

"Sick," Marcus muttered under his breath.

"Bet he carries that around with him, all the time, like a creep," Reves groused.

"Yeah, marks fucking suck," Steven said. "No offense, bro." He glanced at his twin.

Reves found herself involuntarily nodding her head in agreement. Then, her eyes shifted as she glared at the twins and they glared back at her. Did she just agree with her brothers? Reves shuddered, then huffed off before it turned into an episode of the Twilight Zone.

"Maybe, he's just bringing it to Fan Axxess," Heather offered with a shrug of her shoulders, but all three of her siblings were already several feet ahead of her.

"Heather, quit lagging, girl. You'll be getting yourself lost," Mark's bass voice called to her over the din in the terminal.

Her father's voice was like a whip against her bare skin. She practically jumped out of her skin as she politely made her way through the throngs of incoming people muttering, " _Excuse me. Pardon me."_

Rushing along, Heather bumped right into the body in front of her. "Oh, my gosh. I'm so sorry!" She snapped her eyes upward quickly and her face ignited lime fire when the person turned towards her. "Mr. Nash," she said as if she had just looked upon a ghostly apparition.

Kevin Nash inclined his head with an expression of surprise. "Oh," He raised an eyebrow at her. "You alright, kid?"

"Y-yes. I'm trying to catch up with my family." Her body made an awkward jerking motion as she proceeded to head off, then stopped herself, not wanting to come across as rude.

Kevin's eyes scanned the vicinity, spotting Mark and the rest of the family. Being a seven-foot giant did have its advantages, as he was able to look over everyone else's heads. "Hey, Mark. She's right here," his bass voice called out as he pointed to the petite creature beside him.

Everyone within thirty feet or so stopped to see who was yelling all the way across the airport. Heather's face was a crimson mask as she willed her feet to carry her across the way to rejoin her family at the baggage claim. Shuffling along, her head was bent downwards and her nails were digging into her palms as it seemed people were now parting like the Red Sea.

Once people realize WWE superstars were in the vicinity, there was a round of flashing lights from cameras, and both Kevin and Mark were bombarded by fans.

"Motherfucker," Kevin muttered under his breath. He wasn't a stranger to being recognized, he was hard to miss and he had done this for over ten years. He also wasn't a jackass, he knew if you weren't over, you weren't making any money. Still, he regretted calling out to Mark like that. That was a dumbass move, but he was merely thinking of helping the little girl.

Once the crowd had subsided the Calaway family approached the revolving conveyor again. Reves stood impatiently waiting for her suitcase. If not for those damn marks, we'd be out of here by now she told herself. She let out a sigh that was a mixture of relief and continued aggravation as she saw her black suitcase coming towards her.

As she was reaching for it, someone stepped up and grabbed it off the conveyor. "Hey dickhead, that's totally my bag!" she growled. She felt her face flush and damned her words when she turned towards the person. The sight left her body ridged.

"Take it easy, Chica," he spoke in an even voice that was as smooth as whiskey and sent a shiver shooting down her spine. "Yo, so it is," Scott said after reading the luggage tag. He smiled as he handed it to her. She stared into his deep brown eyes before extending her hand to take the suitcase from him.

"Oh, um, my bad…thanks," she mumbled, feeling like a fool. She prayed she didn't look as stupid as she felt.

"No problem," Scott flashed that grin again and she finally broke the gaze.

Reves could feel her anger welling up in her veins. She was caught off guard, again. That meant she wasn't in control, which she absolutely loathed. She was grateful when the seven-footer, Nash, his best friend, came up and delivered a friendly slap on the back to him.

"Sup, Big Kev?" he greeted the taller man with an embrace, and that we Reves's cue to turn away from the agonizing encounter.

Her heart was thumping against her ribcage like a kick drum, putting her entire body on edge. After glancing at both men, in turn, she left swiftly and joined the rest of her family.

The Calaways' procured a rental car for the weekend and arrived at the hotel around 2 P.M. Mark had elected to get caught up on some much needed sleep before making an appearance at a fan event.

* * *

"Mom, I'm starving!" Steven complained with the till of a neglected child.

"Because it's not like you didn't ear an entire family size bag of Doritos on the plane," Reves groused from behind the latest issue of Metal Edge magazine. She was already in a foul mood. She was not about to endure her gluttonous brothers squawking like baby birds with their mouths open, waiting for their mother to drop in a mound of worms. With a half growl, she put down the magazine and lifted her body from the chair, heading towards the door.

"And where do you think you're going?" Sara inquired firmly.

"Just out," Reves replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

Sara narrowed her eyes at her oldest child. "Hmm, nice try," she said shaking her head.

Reves flung herself onto the nearest piece of furniture, which happened to be the one on which Heather was sitting, finishing King Lear. "So sick if sitting in these rooms like a prisoner," she grumbled.

"Shut up you heifer," Marcus groused.

"Marcus!" Sara reprimanded.

"Sorry, I couldn't willingly take your girlfriend's title," Reves retorted.

"Now that's enough, all of you!" Sara's voice was like a whip cracking over them. The teens scowled at each other but remained silent. "Your dad should be getting up soon. We'll see what he wants to do," their mother told them. "Until then, I'm sure you'll survive," Sara darted her eyes towards the boys.

* * *

Later when Mark eventually woke, the family made their way to dinner. They arrived and were seated at the table of a casual dining restaurant. The four teens were dispersed on either side of the table, as their parents took their seats as well.

Heather's eyes drifted around the table. It had been some time since the family had the opportunity to go out together. Even growing up, these scenarios had been rare occurrences. Mark had been on the road for all her life. He was even training before Reves was born. Heather felt a warm coziness swell in her heart, even dispute her ignoramus brothers. These moments were few and far between. She wanted to capture these fleeting moments like lightning in a bottle.

She felt the tears threatening to fall, but she was determined to withhold them. She missed this. She wanted to live as a "normal" family. She wanted her father around all the time. She didn't want her parents to be stopped by fans and then gawked at as if she was just another mark pretending to have some sort of claim or special privilege. She wasn't a fool though. She knew her little fantasy was exactly that. Her father wouldn't stop wrestling, not for a long time. Wrestling was his passion, it was who he was. Heather knew unmistakably that her father loved his family, but he also had a fraternal bond with the boys in the business. It was seemingly something unbreakable. Something that was a given, considering that while in the business, over ninety percent of one's life was spent with your brother on the road. Sometimes though, Heather would often question if her father cared more for the business than his family.

Pulling her mind from such thoughts, Heather rebuked herself. Her father was right there, along with her mother and her siblings. Like a still frame in her mind, she would hold onto this moment dearly.

So the family had partaken of their meal as another normal family. Despite the bickering teens, it harkened back to a simpler time in life. A time in which, even though the kids were aware that their father was a famous wrestler, the burdens of fame were unbeknownst to them.

* * *

After dinner, the teenagers were sent back to the hotel. Mark was doing a signing and Sara was accompanying him although she would not be on the panel.

It was no secret, Sara loved each of her children to death, but she was grateful to be out with her husband without the kids. Something they had not done since her stint in WWE.

The kids, of course, exhibited no hesitation in voicing their protest. The twins rebutted. Reves growled and huffed. Heather's visage displayed blatant disappointment. Sara had planned to take them out tomorrow while Mark had more press and signing.

Reves was antsy. Her whole body felt like one giant itch needing to be scratched. He hadn't stopped thinking about Scott Hall since their encounter last week. Seeing him so unexpectedly at the airport was like rushing to the edge of a cliff and halting abruptly before taking the plunge.

Her idiot brothers weren't doing anything to improve her mood either. She wanted nothing more than to fly from the room, find Hall and tear his clothes off like a ravenous wolf devouring its prey.

She was exceptionally pissed at her parents. Not for going off to Dad's little signing, just the two of them, but for leaving her here with these three little watchdogs. They would without a doubt blab if she left. She needed to devise a plan to get away from her mother within the next day or two.

In the next instant, the phone was ringing. Reves rushed over to pick up the receiver. It was a collect call from Hannah and Julie. Reves comely lips curled into a Cheshire grin. "Oh boys," she held out the receiver to them while she couldn't erase her smile.

"What are you smiling for, freak?" Steven asked as Marcus snatched the receiver from her. They held it between their ears, heads pressed together. They pressed the button to accept the call.

"I…I don't think that's such a good-" Heather was cut off by Marcus.

"Shut up and mind your own business, Geekzilla!" he barked at her.

Heather's face clouded over. Her eyes darkened in response to the insult. "Well, I just…" her meek voice trailed off.

Reves took a seat beside her. "That's the point," she said as she nudged her youngest sibling's arm.

Heather hung her head. She never had any intent or motivation for her siblings to get into strife. No one ever needed her advice. She was the _baby_ therefore, she was the runt and the prude who didn't know how to loosen up. She sighed feebly.

Beside her, Reves chuckled maniacally as she clicked on the television with the remote.

By the time the conversation had come to a close, the twins had been on the phone for over an hour.

Another thirty minutes later, Mark and Sara returned to the room. He appraised the children with stern seriousness. "Can any of you explain to me why I pay an astronomically expensive cell phone bill but none of you can ever seem to pick up on the damn things?" he asked interrupting a squabble over whether they would be watching Jackass or Behind the Music in the main sitting area. "And would any of you mind telling me why the hell the phone here was ringing busy for over an hour?" Mark's voice rumbled.

The bickering ceased as all four teens turned to face their father – the monster of a man. Heather squirmed, she knew they should not have accepted that call. Reves's cheeks were sore as she tried to keep from smiling. The boys gulped in apprehension but remained silent.

"Well?" Mark pressed, "Or do you all want to stare at this room for the remainder of the trip?"

Reves's face fell. "Huh-uh. Y'all better fess up!" she threatened her brothers.

"What the hell were ya doing on the phone that long?" Mark demanded.

"Nothing. Julie and Hannah called to talk," Steven said innocently.

Mark growled and rolled his eyes. Even a thousand miles away, those girls were like a hemorrhoid in his ass.

"Did they call collect?" Sara questioned firmly.

The boys' eyes shifted aside, not meeting their parents' eyes.

Mark pursed his lips. His eyes were like fire as he glared daggers through the boys. "What the fuck made you think it was a good idea to accept a collect call all the way from Texas? Let alone, be on the phone for over an hour?" Mark boomed. "Do you have any idea how much the bill is gonna be when we check out?"

"At least it's Canadian money," Marcus offered with a nervous chuckle.

The parents were not even close to being amused. Mark stared at the boys with an agonizing glower that felt as if he was going to set them ablaze, as Sara shook her head in disbelief. "No allowance for a month!" Mark stated punitively.

"Mom!" the boys pleaded.

"Don't look at me. You heard your dad," Sara responded unwaveringly.

With that, they sent all four of them to bed.

"Looks like you won't be taking those hookers on any dates," Reves quipped as she passed them on the way to the room she was sharing with Heather.

Simultaneously, both boys extended both middle fingers towards her.

"Touché," she grinned and blew them a kiss before shutting the door on them.


	12. Chapter 12.

The day of the biggest event in sports entertainment had finally arrived. This spectacle, aptly named, WrestleMania was dubbed the Superbowl of wrestling. It was the grandest show of them all. Everyone wanted to be on the card and if you were you knew your career was likely headed in the right direction.

The time was approximately ten in the morning. Hall and Nash were visiting Hogan in his hotel room. Not one of them could believe in mere hours they would be walking through the curtain at gorilla position onto a WrestleMania stage. It had been eight years since either Hall or Nash had made a Mania appearance. Over a decade for Hulk.

The nWo was in a good position. They had taken out the likes of Steve Austin and The Rock in the past few weeks since their debut at No Way Out. Vince was working them like fucking mules, but no surprise there. nWo was over in WWE. From one end it was a bit shocking. On the other, it wasn't in the slightest. There was a reason WCW had beaten WWE in the ratings for so long and (despite what the smarks wanted to say) they were it. The nWo tee shirt was currently the hottest selling shirt both online and at events. If that didn't say something, the men didn't know what would.

Scott was set to go over on Austin that night, with Big Kev in his corner. The year's event would culminate in a dream match of Icon vs. Icon, with the Immortal Hulk Hogan squaring off against The Great One, The Rock. Rock was going to get over in the match, but nWo was going to get their retribution when Hall and Nash would make their way to the ring and beat everyone's beloved Rocky to a bloody pulp, before the cameras cut off, solidifying their mark on WWE.

As the three men discussed possible directions and scenarios to take place after WrestleMania, Terry's phone began to ring. "Hello?" he answered. "Oh hey, Vince. What's up?" Hall and Nash were struggling to make out what it was Vince was saying to Terry. He shot a look at Hall and Nash, who returned curious expressions. His ever-sure façade had become clouded with bewilderment. "Ok. Gotcha, Vince. We'll be there, man," He said getting off the phone.

"What the fuck was that about?" Scott asked.

"Vince wants us to meet him in his suite at eleven o'clock," Hulk told them.

"Did he say why?" Kevin questioned.

Terry shook his head. "I don't know what's up, but it can't be good brothers."

The other two men nodded in agreement. Vince wasn't one to hold your hand. When the finish was laid out, that was it and you had better fucking deliver. That is why something had to be up. It was no surprise that things could be changed last minute.

At a quarter to eleven, the three icons piled into the rental car and head down the road to meet Vince in his Mariotte hotel suite. Being the billionaire, he was and mere hours away from celebrating year another edition of his crowning achievement, Vince spared no expense on his home was from home.

Upon hearing a knock at the door Vince McMahon opened it to greet his employees. "Hello, there men. Come in, won't you?" he said in his gruff, booming boss voice as he shook each of their hands. "Take a seat gentlemen." He gestured to the plush couches in the sitting room.

Hall and Nash sat on either end of a long couch. While Hogan was seated in a contemporary style armchair, Vince made himself comfortable on a love seat across from the three men.

"Anything to drink? Coffee? Water?"

His inquiry was met with responses of "No, thank you," and "I'm good." The men weren't here for refreshments. They wanted to know what the hell this was all about.

"So, here's the deal fellas," Vince cleared his throat. "We think it's best to change the finishes of Mania," He paused for the men's reactions, not that it mattered to him. He was the boss after all and he had the final say over every aspect of the product. He could see confusion and curiosity painted on their faces, along with a glint of anger. Just the sort of reaction he was expecting, though he dismissed the glares they were trying to mask.

"What kind of changes are we talkin' about?" Hogan asked.

"Well, a lot of the boys, including Mark, have come to me and they just don't think it's right to have a foreign entity like nWo go over at our flagship Paper Per View."

Hogan narrowed his eyes at Vince. Nash let out an angry sigh and Hall just shook his head. The men were pissed and disappointed. They thought they were really building something that had a myriad of potential, but like anything else, just as swiftly as Vince could build something or someone up, he would tear it down.

"So, what's the new finish?" Nash had struggled to speak slow and even, a feat for a man whose temper could be as gigantic as he was.

"Right. It was decided that Austin should go over his match with Hall. People are behind him. He's built a lot of momentum getting revenge on the nWo. Then, instead of you and Hall coming down to assist Hogan in annihilating Rock, Hogan is going to offer Rock his hand following Rock's victory and he will accept." He directed the last part towards Terry, "Then, you will raise his hand in victory. Hall and Nash, you'll come down." Vince paused as if for drama effect.

The men were silent, but they knew all too well what was coming for them. More importantly, for their faction and the angle they had been working on since they came back to this company.

"After bitching at Hulk for the handshake, you two are going to attack him. Rock jumps back in to help and once you are heading up the ramp after being chased off, the show will close."

They knew this news should not have come to them as shockingly as it felt. They already knew this was Vince and WWE. One wrong step and your push evaporated onto thin air. But what had they done? They had followed all the "rules". They work twice as many days as they were originally signed for. The whole point of this was clear: this wasn't Vince's creation. Therefore, he was not going to give them a real push or let them get over in any real way.

So much for being Vince's boys. Kevin thought back to what Mark had said on the day of their return.

"Is everyone in agreement? Anything you want to add or change?" Vince asked half-heartedly.

Truth was, there wasn't much - if anything – that was going to change and the men knew that. He couldn't put them over his loyal homemade stars like Rock and Austin. Even Mark, who had no disparagement against the men on a personal level, didn't want to see them conquering the locker room.

Vince trusted Mark's opinion. He was objective and he had stayed loyal to him for over ten years. While many others left Vince for big-money contracts, Mark stayed and cemented his place in WWE history.

"Sounds good, Vince," Terry said begrudgingly.

"Fuck. Whatever," Kevin muttered in a bitter tone. He sighed, thinking better. "Whatever it takes, Vince," he grumbled, fighting to keep his attitude in check.

Scott could not even look at Vince. He wasn't one to ever get too emotional over things, especially work. He knew that's how it was. This business was a shark tank. It was a dog eat dog world - even for the best of friends. That's why he didn't blame Mark for giving his honest opinion. He knew Kev and Hulk felt the same. What pissed him off was how Vince had baited them with promises of "how it was going to be." He was even more pissed that he fell for it. Like falling into the same fucking manhole every time you walked down the street. Despite the fact that you know it's there, yet you fall into it every time. He had cleaned up his act. He was sober and doing great, but did it even make a damn difference?

Instead of responding to Vince's inquiry - because he knew he didn't really give two fucks – Scott stood and headed towards the door.

"Dude, Scott where are you going?" Kevin asked as his friend was reaching for the handle.

Looking back over his shoulder, Scott replied, "You know where to find me," before he opened the door and exited the room.

"Scotty, no. Don't fucking do this, man," Kevin called after him, jumping up.

Terry placed a hand on Kevin's arm. "Let him go, brother. He just needs some space. That's all."

 _Fuck that shit_ , Kevin thought. He considered Hulk a very close friend, but he didn't understand the bond of brotherhood he shared with his fellow Kliq members, especially Scott.

By the time Kevin had gotten to the door, (without uttering another word to either Hogan or Vince) Scott was nowhere in sight. Nash cursed to the little prick silently for being lightyears quicker than himself. Anyone who was even half aware of the pair knew Kev meant nothing by such a derogatory reference. He just wanted to catch his friend before he did something that may be considered stupid.

Upon making it out of the hotel itself, Kevin spotted him walking across the parking lot, nearing the sidewalk. Knowing he wouldn't reach him from here, Kev jumped in the rental without hesitation.

He slowly rolled up on Scott with the window down. "Come on, brother. Yes, we got fuck. Royally. But don't go down that path."

Scott stopped and looked at his best friend. "You think there are any bars open at this time?" he asked with a blend of sarcasm and pain in his voice.

"Well, there's always the liquor store," Kevin jested half-heartedly.

Scott shook his head, staring down at the black asphalt. It glistened a little in the late morning sun. A chill ran through his body. March in Toronto was still balls cold. There were still various snow piles scattered about and gray slush on the road's shoulders. "I just need to take a walk. Clear my head of all this shit," He glanced up at Kev.

Kevin wanted to object. Leaving Scott alone with his thoughts was not always the best plan, but his best buddy was a grown ass man. What was he going to do, pick him up and throw his ass in the car? He readily admitted he wasn't above that, but he could feel his friend needed his space.

Kevin let out a despairing sigh. "Alright brother. Don't forget to make it to the area before one o'clock of I don't see you before then," he told Scott before circling back around to pick up Terry who was looking pissed and annoyed right outside the hotel doors.

"Told ya, brother," Terry said as he got into the car that was missing Scott.

Kevin's hands gripped the steering wheel. He wanted to shove his foot up Hogan's ass, but they were already being split apart later tonight, so he swallowed his rage and put the car in gear.

* * *

Scott walked aimlessly for thirty or forty minutes. He wasn't truly journeying anywhere. Really, he was making circles around the same couple of blocks. After he had passed a convenience store three or four times, he went inside.

He stood in front of the beverage cooler. He could see his depressing reflection in the glass. No, he was just fine. He just needed to take the edge off. Contrary to what people thought, he could still enjoy a drink once in a while and be just fine. He grabbed a twelve-pack and took it to the register.

After he paid, he carried the beer down the block towards the venue. Vince always had his hotel as close as possible to the arena so he could rush there in the blind of and eye of need be.

He knew Kev would bring his ring gear when he finally came along. He knew he shouldn't dump that responsibility on Kev, but he had to admit he had become too accustomed to his "big" brother looking after him over the years. At least he would be _safe_ at the arena, not passing out in the gutter somewhere.


	13. Chapter 13.

"You are not wearing that shirt, and if you do, I don't know you," Reves wrinkled her nose at her sister who was wearing a "Big Evil" shirt with the red devil logo on it.

Frowning, Heather glanced down at her shirt. Her large eyes glossed over, wounded. "What is the issue?" she muttered in bewilderment.

"Only marks actually wear wrestling tees outside of TV. That's the issue," Reves chided.

Heather's eyes bore the expression of a wounded rabbit and Reves felt remorse spreading through her chest, although her sour visage remained unwavering.

"Yeah, but it's Wrestle…I just thought…" she trailed off, twisting the hem of her shirt around her forefinger.

Reves let out a pity-filled sigh. "At least don't wear it like such a dweeb." Standing behind Heather, she grabbed a hair tie, bunching up the excess fabric, and secured it with a band. She tucked the tail of the fabric under the younger girl's shirt and rolled up the sleeves. "That's better," Reves declared.

Heather looked in the mirror and a small gasp escaped her lips. "My stomach is exposed!" she cried as her arms shielded her bare skin.

Reves rolled her eyes. "A little mid-rift never killed anybody."

"Not unless your father is an undertaker," Heather muttered sarcastically.

"Whatever," Reves groused, walking away.

The girls walked into the common area of the family's suite. Upon seeing Heather's shirt, Steven burst out laughing. "Get a loada this!" he howled, whacking Marcus in the arm.

Marcus began cackling like a mad man, "You better line up outside with your sign!"

"What's going on in here?" Sara asked, entering the room. She noticed her youngest daughter frowning as she reached behind her, pulling the shirt loose from the hair tie and straighten the hem, folding her arms over her chest. "There's nothing wrong with your shirt, honey." Sara cut her eyes to the three older teens. "Leave your sister alone."

Heather was still feeling the sting from her siblings. She knew they would only resume their torture later. She turned back towards the girls' room.

"Where you going, girl? It's time to be heading out," Mark's gruff voice asked as he appeared suddenly.

Eyes to the ground, Heather incoherently mumbled out her response.

"Girl, look at me when you talk," Mark commanded with firm patience.

Heather's eyes raised to me her father's gaze. "I would like to change my shirt, quickly," she squeaked.

"Ain't a damn thing wrong with that one. Now c'mon. Everybody load up," he said grabbing his gear off the floor and ushering everyone out.

When they entered the arena, Mark told Sara, "You and the kids can head to catering. I'm going to drop off my gear and I have to check in with Vince."

"Ok," Sara said, a little bewildered.

"See you in a little while," he said, leaving a quick peck on her lips. "Guys, try not to act like a bunch of animals," he warned the kids before turning away.

"I'm starving," Marcus announced.

"Me too, dude," Steven agreed.

"Lord, I hope they have enough food for you two bottomless pits," Reves chimed sarcastically as they began walking towards the cafeteria for catering.

After the family had gotten their food and were seated, Glen waved at them from across the room. He approached them with a smile. "I see you got the whole clan here. Where's Mark?"

"Tying up business with Vince, Sara told him with a shrug.

"Ah," Glen said with a nod. He took a seat at the table with them, chatting up Sara and the boys.

Heather sat silently, hands folded in her lap, smiling apprehensively when she thought it was appropriate.

Reves pushed her salad around on the plate. Her elbow was propped on the table supporting her head. She was bored already. She found it funny, her mom was so busy gabbing with Glen, she didn't even scold her for having her elbows on the table. As amusing as that prospect was, she knew she had much more exciting things she could be getting to. "Mom, I'm going to the bathroom," she declared as she stood, not waiting for her mother's permission.

"Come right back," Sara instructed her.

She gave a muffled "Mmhmm," as she departed. She prayed Heather wasn't going to follow her.

Left alone, Heather shifted anxiously in her seat. She wished to tag along with Rev, but she hadn't wanted to say anything. She sufficed to pull out a book. She reached into her bag, instantly turning scarlet when she realized she had accidentally pulled out Lolita. She was still using it as a reference for her thesis. She had grabbed it by mistake. She swiftly concealed it underneath the table. Her eyes darted around for anyone who may have caught a glimpse of the devious read. It had been disastrous enough that one, Kevin Nash had knowledge of the lecherous tale. He likely thought she was some sort of sicko.

Stuffing the tome of the diabolical Humbert Humbert back into her bag, she retrieved a Christopher Pike novel for a bit of recreational reading. It didn't challenge her too much at all, but it offered some delight never the less.

* * *

Reves was traveling down the hall with a nonchalant swagger until she came to face the room she was searching for. She wasn't sure how she would be received, but it was worth a shot. She was not sure who was on the other side of the door if anyone. She gave a knock as her heartbeat in her rib cage, in sync with her knuckles.

"It's open," she heard a smooth timbre call from the other side.

Reves hesitated a moment. She then expelled a deep breath and cautiously turned the doorknob. She peeked her head in. Her eyes scanned the room, but she could only see Scott sitting back on the plush leather couch. She stepped inside, not sure of what to say, so she hid behind the façade of her coy smirk for a few moments. He looked damn sexy lounged there on the couch. She could feel the moisture beginning between her legs as she thought of their last encounter.

Scott's deep brown eyes met her orbs that were like twin pools, rimmed in black. He could see the desire painted in them, no matter the façade she tried to plaster on. Her body looked banging in her tight jeans and well-fitted shirt. She was certainly hard to resist when she was standing there like an open invitation, but with all that had happened earlier, he just wasn't in the mood. He just wanted to sit there, finish his beer and forget about the deception from yet another company who pretended to have his best interest at heart.

"Beat it, kid," he groused, tossing his second empty can in the trash. He wasn't necessarily feeling the buzz, but his nerves were a lot more relaxed than when he first walked into the arena.

The pain flashed in Reves's eyes momentarily. She didn't take kindly to being rejected, though her mask never faltered. Her full lips curled into a devilish grin. "I don't know what your problem is," she voiced coolly, "I kind of don't care, really. But hey, I can give you a hand."

As she spoke, Scott plucked his third can from the plastic holder. He let out a "Ha!" low in his throat.

Reves pursed her lips and her hand clenched into a fist for a moment. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins. Anger was welling up inside her. She stood, still and silent, talking herself down from slapping him across the face.

She looked down at the beer can in his hand. She plopped down beside him, so close her side was pressed against his. The smile came back to her face as she took the beer can from him.

He surrendered the can in his befuddled state. She just held onto it for a moment. Then she rotated the can a little bit and popped the top, the proverbial _crack_ echoing throughout the room. She lifted it up, giving a solitary _cheers_ motion, and brought the can to her lips. The amber liquid hit her tongue with a dull burn. She nearly choked on the bitter, yeasty flavor, but she swallowed it down in a huge gulp that made her eyes water. She begrudgingly took a few more menial sips, fighting the urge to gag before handing the can back to Scott. She also met him with a grin and lightly bit her bottom lip.

Scott stared at her for a long second. He knew he should be reprimanding her for underage drinking, but truth be told, he was doing _a lot_ worse at her age.

He looked down at the tee-shirt stretched across her ample breasts. (Of course, what else was meant by _well fitted_?) He felt his cock come to life when her hand came to rest on his knee. "You don't take no for an answer, do you?" he asked, appraising her body again.

"Never," she replied with a Cheshire grin, running her hand up to the bulge between his legs.

Scott released a groan as he felt himself harden more. He wasn't sure what brought her back for more (of course, he was an outstanding lover) but he was glad it did.

He had to admit, he felt rather lame, like a jabroni virgin. His dick strained against his jeans and they hadn't even kissed.

Bold as she may, she reached for his belt buckle. "We have to be quick about it. I have to get back to the overlords."

That was perfectly fine with him. He felt like he was about to explode all of a sudden as he was thinking about everything they had done during their last interaction. He placed the beer, which he had been holding, on the coffee table and reached for Reves's shirt, pulling it over her head.

Their lips connected for a few moments before they broke away to shed the rest of their clothing. Scott grabbed a condom and rolled it on. Reves laid back on the couch, legs spread, eagerly awaiting him. He could see moisture glistening between her legs, so he positioned himself and sunk deep inside her, releasing a simultaneous groan from both of them.

* * *

Nash and Hogan had finally made it to the arena. Kevin hadn't heard from Scott since they had left Vince's hotel. He hoped Scott had already made it, if not he would be along soon. They were already going to get it from old Vinnie for being late.

Hurrying to McMahon's office, Kevin practically broke down the door as he burst through it, garnering a searing glare from Vince.

"Ah, nice of you to join us, Kevin. Terry," Vince said in a relatively calm voice that still dripped a venomous sarcasm.

Kevin ignored Vince's disposition. "Is Scott here yet?" He demanded, leaning on Vince's desk.

"Yes. He actually made it to work on time. In fact, he's been here a little while, unlike his buddies," the gruff Mr. McMahon voice was coming through now.

Kevin let out a sigh, not bothering to hide his relief. He had been anxious over Scott all afternoon. Despite everything that was going to change tonight, this was one of the best opportunities he and his friends could ask for. The last thing he wanted to hear walking in the door was that Hall had gone AWOL.

Vince wore an agitated expression as he leaned back in his huge office chair. He knew Nash was all about the welfare of his pals, but he was still pissed at both he and Terry for being late. Vince didn't want to be pissed – not this early on in the day. "Alright, go on now." He inclined forward, pointing a threatening finger at them, "But come late the next time, I'll have your asses! Understood?" Vince barked.

Nash resisted the urge to roll his eyes and straightened back to his gargantuan stance. "You got it, Vince," he said in a compliant tone.

"Sure thing, brother," Terry agreed, though Vince's words didn't do anything for his ego.

* * *

Reves combed her fingers through her tousled hair in an attempt to smooth her disheveled tresses. She regarded her reflection in the full-length mirror that was attached to the concrete wall. She wiped away traces of smeared eye-liner with the side of her thumb. The blonde's legs still felt like jelly as a result of the two powerful orgasms she had recently endured.

She turned back towards Scott, who was now fully dressed as well and had returned to consuming beer number three. She didn't have the slightest clue as to what to say, but her offhanded expression never wavered. After another moment, she veered towards the door. "Well, see ya," she shrugged nonchalantly.

As she reached the door, Scott had suddenly appeared beside her, his arm outstretched in front of her body. "Do you plan on making a habit out of this?" he inquired to her. His lips were mere inches from her ear and the warmth of his breath caused her to shudder involuntarily.

Her heartbeat quickened as his body brushed her side. "That depends."

"On what?" His gaze bore into her.

She offered a devious grin. "If you remain so easily seduced." Her eyes flashed with intense lust.

The expression painted on her face caused Scott to go wild all over. Who taught her to carry such a sensual demeanor? She seemed to come by it so naturally and he questioned how she was born with such a disposition. No wonder Mark wanted to suppress that wild streak within her. Maybe the alcohol was finally getting to him, but he couldn't lie, he had the desire to see how far her limits would go. If he pushed her to the edge, would she push back? "Come to my hotel after the show." His timbre was like velvet whiskey shooting down her spine, smooth and fiery all at once. "Or is Daddy Calaway going to lock you back in the dungeon?"

Reves shifted her eyes, staring back at him challengingly. "Are you kidding? Mania after party! He'll be smashed," She snorted. "So, where will you be?"

Scott gave her his hotel name and room number and she went on her way.

He knew it would look odd that he would go straight to the hotel after the show, but what was there to truly celebrate? He bent over backward for Vince and the rest of the company. He had walked the straight and narrow and all he got was a big "fuck you" in return. He didn't have a problem putting Steve over, but where was their push for once? So, if the Kliq had as much pull as these jabronis claimed, why were they being screwed like this?

No matter, he thought as he depleted the third can. He was going to get hammered and fuck that hot little number until she was begging him to stop.


	14. Chapter 14.

Reves left the room shuddering. She didn't want to admit it, but he left some sort of impression upon her. There was something he was drowning in the alcohol and though she only came to get hers, she couldn't help but take notice of the somber mood that remained unmoved beneath the surface.

As she turned the corner that led to the corridor that contained her father's dressing room, she spotted her sister's awkward gait running towards her.

"Where did you disappear to?" Heather inquired of her older sister as she grabbed a hold of her wrist with her dainty hands. Her slender fingers were like ice, sending a chill up Reves's spine. "Mom has Marcus and Steven looking all over the arena for you!" Heather's anxious disposition would lead one to believe she had been missing for days as opposed to an hour or so. "Daddy could be back from his meeting any minute. Where had you gone off to at any rate?"

Reves always found it highly annoying when their sister referred to their father as _Daddy_ like she was a wimpy five-year-old. Why would she want to idolize him like a naïve little girl? To Reves, he may as well have been a sperm donor at times.

"I just needed to get away from those two jackasses, chewing their food like cows, ok. Does it matter?" Reves snapped at the younger girl.

Heather released the gentle grip on her sister's wrist. The proverbial frown etched on her pretty little face was chased by fat tears. "I...I was just asking," she sniffed with her head bowed.

Reves had rebuked herself then. Heather had such a fragile sensitivity; the slightest thing could set her off. Reves thought how it must have been exhausting to be so angelic. However sorry she felt for her sister, she couldn't help releasing an agitated sigh. "Ok look. I'm sorry." She threw an arm around Heather's shoulder. "Let's get back then. Before the _Lord of Darkness_ sends his creatures of the night to seize us," she tilled with a dramatic flair.

By the time they had reached the locker room door, Mark had descended upon them like a true ghostly apparition. Well shit. Reves was sure she was in for it now.

"Do I speak a foreign fucking language or are you just that hard-headed that you have to undermine every single word that I say?" Mark's rumbling voice reverberated off the walls.

Reves opened her mouth but was surprised to find herself at a loss.

"Your mom was so worried; she sent your bothers and interrupted my meeting with Vince."

At the mention of her brothers, the momentary lapse in her sass returned as she scoffed, garnering a steely glare from her father. "Is it a travesty that I seek a little solace from those two ingrates that I have to suffer as siblings?" She had attempted another melodramatic lamentation through sugarcoated lips and doe eyes. Unfortunately for the eldest Calaway sibling, her stupor dripped with deadly venom. Afterward, her lips snapped shut as she remembered the alcohol she had consumed previously. She was thankful he was standing a few feet away.

Mark's face twisted into an angry scowl that made Heather quake even though it was nowhere near directed towards her. Reves was pissing him off, but her didn't have the time or the energy to deal with her at the moment. Just as he was going to send her into Sara, the door opened.

Sara's stern expression indicated she was neither all too happy with her daughter's disappearing act. "I don't appreciate being lied to, Reves Ann!" she scolded.

"Now you know what the hell I go through on a damn near daily basis," Mark gruffed.

"Mark, you didn't have to drag them along." The comment had rubbed Sara the wrong way. "And who wants to talk about dealing with the kids day on and day out?"

"Oh, so it's back to the guilt trip, is it?" There was on edge to Mark's voice.

"Told you we were only here out of guilt," Reves grumbled to Heather, who shifted her weight uneasily and averted her eyes.

"Hush!" Reves's parents snapped at her in unison.

"Get in the room," Mark instructed.

The sisters sat down on the couch with their brothers as their parents continued to exchange words.

"You're in for it now," Steven laughed

"Shut up, jackass," Reves growled.

"I don't have time for this right now." Mark snipped, stopping Sara mid-sentence.

The hurt was evident on Sara's face. "Of course, you don't," she mumbled, turning away.

Mark's face washed over with regret from being so short. Mainly, because his youngest was staring at them with those concerned, innocent eyes. He released a grumbling sigh. "Don't think I'm going to let this slide," he focused his gaze on Reves before he turned away to resume his business.

* * *

Kevin and Hogan arrived at the nWo dressing room mere minutes after Reves had left. Scott was lounged on the sofa knocking back the last of the beer. "Hey yo, chicos," Scott half smiled at them lazily.

Kev and Terry took notice of the empty beer cans and exchanged glances. "Everything ok, bro?" Kev asked with a raised eyebrow as he dropped his gear bag on the floor in the corner.

"Well, I got fucked. Once again." He chuckled to himself because he meant quite literally and figuratively. "So why not take the riming with a smile?" he paused, holding his nearly empty can aloft, as his lips twisted into an uncomfortable grin. His glassy eyes reiterated the betrayal he felt.

"Ya know brother, I'm the one being ripped from the stable. So, I don't really get what you're bitching about," Hogan relayed in agitation.

"Oh, but you're Hulk fucking Hogan. You're everyone's hero, Chico," Scott spat, then polished off the last drops of alcohol.

Hulk's eyes blazed as he stared down at the Bad Guy.

"Come on guys, don't fucking fight," Kevin interceded. "This is a shitty outcome for us. Last thing we need to do is be at each other's throats.

Hulk relented, which was something often difficult for him to do. "Kev's right brother. We're here, it's Mania. Let's make the best of this."

"What choice do we have?" Scott inquired in a somber tone.

"Dick couldn't even save me one," Nash gripped as he collected the empty beer cans and deposited them in the trash. He jested at his pal, but in his gut, he worried about the mental state of his friend if alcohol had come into play. He knew Scott was his own man and a damn stubborn one at that. Kevin Vince and a couple of suits.

* * *

Mark has changed into his ring gear. His match was fifth tonight and he would go over Ric Flair, a man he had a tremendous amount of respect for, in order to maintain his WrestleMania winning streak for the tenth year in a row. Even though the business was a work, he prided himself that he had garnered enough respect both in the locker room and as his character to sustain the honor.

"Good luck, Dad," Heather wished him when it was time for him to head to the gorilla position.

"You know it's a work, dummy. He's already slated to win," Reves chided.

"Rev, what do we tell all of you about name calling your sibling?" Sara scolded.

"Let's see. Something like _, if you can't say nuttin nice, don't say nuttin at all,_ " Reves responded in the voice of a preschooler and batted her baby blues.

"Girl, don't mock your mother!" Mark pointed a finger at her with his eyes ablaze. "You're still in hot water, missy."

"Besides, you know that every performance is accompanied by the risk of an accident or serious injury." Now Heather was lecturing her, too.

"Break a leg, Dad!" Steven said, enthusiastically giving a thumbs up.

Marcus turned towards him with a perplexed expression.

"What? It's Mercury's Law. Now that I said it, it won't come true."

Heather couldn't refrain from correcting him. "That's _Murphy's_ Law you are referring to. It's an adage that states: 'Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong'."

"That's moronic," Reves mumbled.

"Look," Mark spoke over them, "don't go giving your mom a hard time, understood?"

"Yes Sir," they muttered nearly in unison.

Despite their little tiff earlier, Sara kissed Mark and wished him good luck. Should couldn't help the envious longing she had growing inside her. She remembered the rush of adrenaline she would get from appearing out there in front of a crowd of thousands of people. She wished she has as least been about to accompany her husband ringside, but Vince offered and Mark didn't bring it up.

It wasn't as if Sara wanted to be a mega wrestling star or the business to give her a boost. During her short stint with WWE, she felt as if she had actually accomplished something. She hated feeling somewhat resentful towards Mark, but she was never really afforded much of an opportunity to be much more than a housewife. She was already caring for four children by the time most her age had enter college. She had set all her ambitions aside in order for Mark to pursue his dream of becoming a professional wrestler.

In turn, he had missed moments and milestones in the kids' lives and left his body broken in the ring every single night to provide for the family. It's was true, she and her children wanted for nothing. Yet, she couldn't help but wonder what the cost was at times.

Sara saw Mark off from the gorilla position, then returned to the locker room to watch the match via television.

During the course of the match, both men had been busted open. Of course, there was a method for everything in this industry, but the alternative to really being busted open didn't make Heather quiver any less. This business and nearly all of its _secrets_ were not for the faint of heart. That knowledge still didn't prevent Heather from clapping and smiling like a starry-eyed child when her daddy tombstoned the legendary Nature Boy and went over with the pin.

Her daughter's innocent and genuine excitement brought a smile to Sara's face.

Mark returned to his locker room after Flair came through the curtain and the two men embraced each other and exchanged congratulations on a job well done. Mark thought his dead weight on the couch. As he was getting his baring's, Sara cleaned his cut and the blood from his forehead.

On the TV, Edge was presently battling Booker T. Reves had little interest in the match for she knew the event that succeeded. The thought currently entered her head about whether or not her parents would go out to celebrate afterward. She was sure they would. WrestleMania was usually always the crowning achievement of any wrestler's year. Would she and Scott be able to pull off this secret rendezvous?

"Oh, man! Did you see that?" Steven grabbed his twin, marking out over a kick Booker had delivered to Edge.

Her brother's outburst had sucked Reves from her thoughts. She looked at her sister, whose emerald eyes were surveying the bout in an analytical fashion from behind her black frames. Heather wouldn't admit it – not about wrestling, at least- but she was a professional fangirl, herself.

Reves stared absent-mindedly at the screen. This was taking entirely too long. In fact, she rather the whole program be done with so she could get on to more amusing activities. The thoughts made her tingle inside. Kind of like the day in high school she and Erik had snuck off campus and had sex in his car at the park down the road before first bell. Then, he fingered her right in the middle of the cafeteria during lunch. All while the obliviously dim-witted teachers and staff looked on unaware. After school, he bent her over the kitchen counter at his house. They were zipping up their jeans just as his mom walked through the door.

She enjoyed stuff like that. It was risky. It was dangerous. She liked walking that thin line, and she loved doing the exact opposite of what people told her to do. That is why when she met Scott face to face, she couldn't help but be magnetized by the machismo and charisma of The Bad Guy.

That is not to say she was overly promiscuous. She didn't go around just letting any and every guy get into her pants. She had truly loved Erik and he dumped her like a sack of trash. So, far be it from her to have a little fun.

Mark sat there another few minutes before grumbling half-heartedly, "I've gotta drag my ass to the shower." Rising from the sofa, Mark grabbed his duffle bag containing his clean clothes and headed into the shower stalls.

Mark had been in the shower a few minutes and the promo for the Austin vs. Hall match had finally begun. Reves knew her dad would be done before the match concluded and would probably want to leave. No matter, as long as her parents left the door open for her plans.

Mere minutes later, Mark came out dressed in motorcycle boots, dark jeans, and a blue-gray tee shirt. "You kids ready to go?" he asked, stuffing his dirty gear into his bag.

"But Dad, we haven't even seen any of the action live!" Marcus protested.

"It is getting a little late," Heather chimed in with her meek voice.

"It's not even ten o'clock, grandma!" Steven spat back.

"I'm amazed you can tell time," Reves interjected dripping sarcasm.

"Cut it out, all o'ya!" Mark's bass timbre rumbled. "Your mom and I are gonna go out with friends. You are all going back to the hotel and you can finish watching Mania there. Remember, none of you are in a very favorable position right now.

Heather lowered her head in admonishment. What had she done? She inhaled sharply, on the verge of tears.

Mark looked at Heather with sympathetic eyes.

All of us but sweet, innocent Heather, of course, Reves thought, fighting to mask her annoyance.

* * *

Everyone gathered their things and they headed back to the hotel. Mark used his credit card to purchase a viewing of the WrestleMania program and he and Sara left again.

It would be a little while before Scott would be available as he had to be involved in some things with Hogan's match. She sat there, pondering how she could get away. Maybe this was too much of a risk. She was positive those two ingrates she had the misfortune of calling her brothers would jump all over the chance to rat her out. Folding her arms over her chest, she sunk down into the lumpy sofa and threw her heels up on the coffee table.

Her siblings were so fucking lame. How could they be content with just sitting here and marking out like a band of losers? Even those dipshits back home had been living it up at that lame ass Sadie Hawkins dance the previous night (even though everyone knows it's the afterparty that counts). Not that she cared, she was passed high school dances.

"Y'all could of stayed home and went to that shitty dance," Reves grumbled.

"I for one, and relieved we were able to dodge that abhorrent social obligation," Heather commented. She sat in a high back chair, hugging her knees, which were drawn to her chest. Her cascading onyx hair draped around her, hiding the rest of her body.

"Dudes don't give a shit about those lame ass dances. We just want to fuck after, so like, we gotta go," Steven shrugged.

Heather gasped. Her face turned scarlet red and she could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks. "That's…reprehensible," she stammered. She knew she should be accustomed to such speech from her siblings, but the very prospect of their conversation left her squirming in mortification.

"Says the one who read that Lolita book with the old perv," Reves teased.

Heather's face flared. "I…I told you. Simon forced me to read that for my thesis," she sputtered in defense.

"Forced you? Did he hold a gun to your head?"

"N-no. I-"

"What the hell is Lolita? Is that where Lita's name comes from? She fucking hot!" Marcus interrupted her.

"Ugh, will you jackasses just shut up?" Reves barked. This was taking entirely too long and she was growing quite impatient.

* * *

Scott plopped down on the metal folding chair to untie his boots. They had done it. He and Kev were now on the opposing side from Hulk. After losing to Rock, Hulk offered a handshake and raised his hand in victory. At which point, Scott and Kev came down to beat the shit out of him, only to be thrown out of the ring by him and Rock.

Kevin studied him as he removed his ring gear. "You okay man?" Kevin was pissed about this whole scenario, but he felt Scott was taking it a lot harder than he was. "you wanna go out after this?"

Scott let out a sigh. "Nah, I'm just kinda beat. I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel." He sounded more pathetic than he intended.

Kevin appraised his sagging shoulder and somber expression. "Sure you're alright, Scotty?" he asked coolly.

"Yeah. It's been a long fucking day." A miserable one, he wanted to add. Well, not entirely. He did get some pleasure in the form of a feisty, five-foot-six blonde. He hoped he could get a happy ending to this shitty day.

Kev was staring at him with an unconvinced expression. "Should I start worrying now?" he questioned. There was a sense of levity to his voice, but they both knew it ran deeper than that.

"Pfft, this is nothing," Scott painted on a nonchalant attitude.

Nash narrowed his eyes at the smaller man. "Don't lie to me, Hall," he warned.

Scott wiggled his fingers, feigning an appearance of fright. "Please don't hurt me, Nash," he shot back.

Scott placed his hand firmly on his best friend's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "You don't have to worry, man," he assured, giving a half smile. Then he raised up from his chair and headed for the shower.

Bemused, Kevin watched him as he went. He didn't know what to make of his friend's demeanor. Part of him was depressed. He knew that because of how betrayed Scott felt earlier. Yet it's like he had some sort of excuse to be glad. He guessed maybe he was going to hook up with a rat. No pussy ever made him that chipper, though.

Kev could hear the stream of the shower being turned on. Scott, having yet to step in, projected his voice of the flowing water, "You know, nothing against Steve or anything, but I think our match left something to be desired."

Scott wanted to change the subject. That was fine. If he learned anything in his ten plus years as Scott's friend, it was that he could keep him on an invisible leash, but he still had to give him plenty of slack. "Think it was because you were both smashed?" The question was legitimate, though Kevin chuckled afterward.

"Fuck off, hypocrite. I don't know. Steve's neck and his knees and all that…" Scott trailed off.

"So, it was Steve's fault?" Kevin goaded him.

"No man. I just felt like something was missing."

"Like what? You had good spots. Too damn many if you ask me. Don't know how some of this fuckers breathe anymore without being told to do so."

"I know," Scott replied as Kevin heard the shower hooks scraping along the metal rod. That was his sign that their conversation was over for now.

Kevin took a shower afterward, then the two men packed up their bags and left. They hadn't seen Hulk since they re-entered the gorilla. Neither one of them felt much like waiting around either. They hopped in the rental and headed off. Kevin was going to drive Scott back to the hotel before hitting the town.

"You sure bout this brother?" Kevin prodded again as they pulled up to the front.

"Yeah man," Scott answered. "I just want to get some rest."

Kevin wasn't fully buying what his friend was selling, but he thought it best not to push the issue. "Well, if you change your mind, call me," he told Scott as he was exiting the vehicle.

* * *

Scott made his way to his room. As he stepped out of the elevator, he could see a figure with ashy hair sitting in front of his door. The sight caused his face to be painted with a goofy smile.

She stood as he approached her. "Well, it's about time. Fuck, you take forever." Her piercing blues were stabbing through him.

"How'd you escape the convent, sister?" he inquired with a smirk.

Her countenance morphed into a devilish grin. "That's not important, is it?" she responded.

He closed the gap between them, leaning into her ear. His warm breath prickled her flesh in the same manner as his raspy timbre when he spoke to her. "I suppose you really are a bad, bad girl, aren't you?" One hand moved to grasp her firm ass. "Maybe I should bend you over my knee and spank you for behaving like such a naughty girl, hmm?"

Reves struggled to maintain her image of indifference as a tiny mewl escaped her throat. Her breath had become heavy and her chest tightened the moment he approached, but she was fighting to keep a calm composure.

Before she had another moment to think, Scott's lips cam over hers with a firm passion. She returned with the dame unrelenting fervor. He pushed her back into the door as his hands roamed her voluptuous body freely. Her arms came around his neck and she beckoned his tongue to play along with hers.

Scott brought his left arm around her slender waist, pulling her supple frame again his rock-hard body, as he pulled out his room key. Having a small degree of difficulty, he unlocked the door and they stumbled inside, barely breaking away from one another.


End file.
